Real Love
by dettiot
Summary: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.
1. Season 1

**Real Love 1/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: Inspired by the Beatles song, in particular the Regina Spektor cover. You can check out the song on my Tumblr-search for dettiot or use the link in my profile-as well as seeing the full-size version of the gorgeous cover graphic, created by watchchristmastv.

Happy Chuckiversary, everyone. It may be two years since the finale of Chuck, but we're still here and we're still going strong!

XXX

1. **Vs. the Intersect**

Her hand had been so soft.

Chuck Bartowski tugged on his tie, loosening it a little. He still had two hours left in his shift. Two hours before he could go home and get ready for his date.

A date! It had been a long, long time since he had been on a date. And he wasn't sure if he had ever been so excited for one. Maybe before that time with Jill-

No, he shouldn't be thinking about her. That was the rule: no talking or thinking about an ex on a first date. Not if he wanted there to be more than one date.

And he was already pretty sure he'd like to see Sarah again. Because she was beautiful, and interesting, and smart. She had a hand he wanted to hold again. He wanted to wrap his fingers around hers, find out if she would swing their joined hands or if her palms got sweaty like his did or if she liked to lace her fingers through someone else's.

He was really getting ahead of himself, he knew. After all, there was a million different ways he could screw up. A hundred ways that Sarah could realize she didn't like him and wouldn't want to see him again.

"Chuck! Chuck, you should cut out early. With a hottie like Sarah, you need the extra time to get ready."

Turning around in his chair, Chuck gave Morgan a tight smile. "Gee, thanks, buddy."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "She is the hottest girl either of us has ever seen, and she likes you, Chuck." He poked Chuck in the chest. "She asked you out. That means she likes you. You've got to pull out all the stops, step up your game."

That would imply he had any game, Chuck thought somewhat glumly. The more Morgan talked about how hot Sarah was (obvious to anyone with eyes) and how she must like him (not nearly so obvious), the more nervous and stressed out he got.

Suddenly, Morgan stopped mid-word. "Chuck? Dude, what's wrong?"

Slumping down in his chair, Chuck spread his hands wide. "Sarah is really, really gorgeous. So why would she want to go out with me?"

"Chuck, Chuck, Chuck," Morgan said, stepping inside the circular Nerd Herd desk and standing behind him. He rested his hands on Chuck's shoulders and massaged them. "You are a great guy. Smart, funny, a great vinyl collection. Sarah's new in town and she walks in here and sees your friendly, smiling face-what's not to love?"

"Love?!" Chuck yelped. "I don't even know her. Love? Too soon, Morgan."

"Definitely too soon," Morgan said, sounding sheepish. "But, c'mon. It's been a long time since She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-"

"Jill is not Voldemort, Morgan," Chuck interrupted. "You can say her name."

Morgan waved his hand in the air and continued. "It's been a long time and you deserve to go out with someone like Sarah. Because you are a diamond in the rough and you'll show her a whole new world."

At Morgan's words, hearing his best friend's support, Chuck felt his spirits rising. Maybe Morgan was right and he did deserve a chance with a woman like Sarah. And besides, she was the one who expressed the interest in him. She had even let him touch her hand and smiled at him. Maybe his luck was changing.

Then what Morgan said fully registered, and Chuck gave Morgan a look. "Did you just quote _Aladdin_ to me?"

"It's one of Harry Tang's favorites-he keeps putting it on the TVs," Morgan said. "It's like some kind of weird earworm. Remember that time I couldn't stop humming _The Glory of Love_?"

He sure did. And just when he thought he had blocked that memory. But Chuck just smiled a little and let Morgan keep rambling about the Great Karaoke Moment of 1993.

In a few hours, he would be on a date with Sarah. He was going to be funny and charming and make her feel good. And maybe by the end of the date, she would let him hold her hand.

2. **Vs. the Sandworm**

What kind of Halloween party did the CIA think she was going to?

Sarah Walker eyed the collection of costumes spread out on the bed in her hotel room. When she had asked Operational Support to provide her with a Halloween costume, clearly she should have told them the party wasn't being held at a brothel or orgy. She didn't think any of these costumes would work for the annual Bartowski Halloween party-especially considering the cover relationship she had with Chuck.

Although it would be a little funny to show up as a sexy French maid and see his eyes pop out of his head . . .

Letting out a small giggle, Sarah shook her head. It might be funny for a moment, but then Chuck would just turn bright red and be nervous and awkward. And that was the last thing she wanted to do to him. He was a nice guy and she didn't want to embarrass him.

More than a nice guy, really. He was . . . respectful. Unlike other assets she had dealt with, Chuck didn't leer at her or make suggestive remarks. He definitely liked to look at her; she didn't need to be a highly-trained spy to know that. But he didn't ogle her like she was some piece of meat. In fact, most of the time he seemed more interested in looking into her eyes than staring at the other parts of her.

She nibbled on her lower lip. Those long gazes of his, when it seemed like he was trying to see into her soul, were starting to affect her. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep her walls up, to keep him at arm's length. Because she liked Chuck. She wanted him to realize what a nice, funny, charming guy he was. So that when the Intersect was out of his head, like he wanted, he could have the life he wanted. A better job than the Buy More and a better woman than her.

Frowning a little, Sarah flipped through the costumes again, being a bit rough with them. There was no reason to feel upset at the idea of Chuck finding someone better than her. Because yes, he deserved that, deserved to have something real-but why did it annoy her that he would be with someone else?

None of these costumes would work. Not for a real girlfriend, and not for a guy like Chuck. He wouldn't like some generic costume like French maid or naughty nurse. No, Chuck's girlfriend would come up with something nerdy, from his comic books or one of the movies that he loved, so she could knock his socks off.

But Sarah wasn't that girlfriend. So what should she pick? She had no idea what Chuck might like best-

Wait. She did. Or at least, she knew what another nerd had thought Chuck might like. Because in that Photoshopped picture of her and Chuck at Comic-Con, she was pretty sure that the costume "her" body had been wearing was from _Star Wars_.

Grabbing her phone, Sarah dialed the number for Operational Support and tapped her foot as she waited to be connected with the next available staffer.

"Operational Support. Agent name and operation, please." The male voice on the other end of the phone sounded bored.

"Agent Sarah Walker. Operation XJ-217."

There was a slight intake of breath; clearly the staffer hadn't worked with many off-the-books operations. "Go ahead."

"This is going to sound crazy, but I need a costume from _Star Wars_," Sarah said, pacing a little.

"What kind of costume, Agent Walker?" the staffer asked, sounding confused.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Sarah described, "It's got a metal bikini top and some kind of low-slung skirt?"

"Oh, the Slave Leia costume. That's easy," the staffer said, his voice jovial. "Got some kind of nerd to reel in?"

"Sorry, I can't say," Sarah said, feeling her spirits rise. She had guessed right! Chuck would like this!

"Let me just confirm your sizes and we'll have that to you first thing tomorrow morning, Agent Walker."

Nodding, Sarah gave the staffer the info he needed and then hung up. She might not know anything about how to keep a real boyfriend happy, but she knew how to keep Chuck happy. And she liked doing it. It made her feel good, especially now. It was fun to imagine what his reaction might be when she showed up at the party in her costume.

He would probably be speechless for a minute. And he would definitely make sure to look her over. But then . . . then, he'd be polite. He'd treat her like Sarah, not some random girl in a sexy costume.

She liked that he always treated her like Sarah. Even if he didn't know who Sarah was. Even if she didn't know who Sarah was, either.

All these thoughts made her feel a little shy. Especially with the cheap, skin-tight costumes spread over her bed. So Sarah began packing them up to return them to Operational Support, not even fully aware of the little smile she had on her face as she thought of Chuck.

End, Chapter 1


	2. Season 2

**Real Love 2/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: Time for some moments from Season 2! If I had to pick, season 2 might be my favorite season, so you can guess how much I enjoyed writing this chapter. Enjoy!

XXX

1. **Vs. the First Date**

Sarah had said yes!

As he walked back to the Buy More, Chuck felt like he was floating on a cloud. Or maybe he was in a dream. But unlike all the other dreams he'd had about Sarah, this one didn't feature something weird like Jeff making grilled cheese sandwiches in the background. And it wasn't a dream. He was going out with Sarah, tonight, and it was for real. She actually wanted to go out with him. Not because of the cover, but because she wanted to spend the evening with him.

And yeah, he knew it was partly because he was going back to being a normal guy and she was leaving, but-but they had to start somewhere, right? To see if maybe they could have something special, something honest and normal. Something like a real relationship. And that would start with a real first date.

So he just needed to figure out what they were going to do. Nothing too fancy or elaborate; mostly because he couldn't afford that on his salary, but also because Sarah already knew him. She knew what kind of guy he was. And he'd rather just get some dinner with her. Someplace quiet that would give them plenty of time to talk.

Once he walked into the Buy More, Chuck started searching for Morgan, the king of inexpensive restaurant recommendations. He headed back to the break room, pushing open the closed door. "Hey, Morgan, can you-oh, sorry!"

By now, he should be used to walking in on Morgan and Anna making out. They were certainly very . . . eager. Most of the time, they kept things PG at work. But not today.

For just a moment, Chuck felt a fleeting stab of envy. Why couldn't he have that? He wanted to have Sarah come visit him and sit on his lap in the break room. And while he didn't necessarily want Sarah to be chewing his face off like that, it'd be nice to know that she was there, with him, because she wanted to be.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Tonight would be the start of something new with Sarah, just like he was getting ready to start a new life, one that was post-Intersect.

"Wha?" Morgan asked, looking dazed. "Oh, Chuck! Hey, buddy." He grinned widely, Anna's dark purple lipstick smeared around his lips. And on his neck. And on his-and Chuck didn't want to see anymore.

"Hey, Morgan," Chuck said, shuffling his feet. "Got a minute? I mean, I hate to interrupt, but . . ."

"It's okay, Chuckles," Anna said as she finished combing her fingers through her hair. "You don't have to act like you just walked in on your parents." She grinned and hopped off of Morgan's lap. "See you later."

With some extra sway in her hips, Anna sauntered out. Chuck looked at Morgan, who was watching his girlfriend walk away with a besotted expression on his face. Not that Chuck could blame Morgan; he was pretty sure he had looked at Sarah with some dopey faces.

And thinking of Sarah made him focus on what was going on and why he was interrupting his best friend's make-out time.

"Sorry again, but I really need your help, Morgan," Chuck said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him.

"No, no, it's okay! I think Anna being considered management material is really helping our relationship," Morgan said with a grin before growing serious. "But you are my oldest friend. Bros before hos."

"Thanks, budd-did you just call your girlfriend a ho?" Chuck paused and then shook his head. "We'll come back to that later. Right now, I need a restaurant recommendation."

Morgan leaned back in his chair, looking pleased. "Right! Okay. It's not your anniversary with Sarah or anything, so just looking for someplace new?"

"Kinda?" Chuck said, wondering how exactly to explain this to Morgan. "I want someplace where we can talk and just . . . reconnect. With each other."

"Really?" Morgan asked before shrugging his shoulders. "Okay. What kinda cuisine?"

"Chinese or Japanese? Sarah really likes sushi, but that might be a bit out of my budget this time," Chuck said.

The bearded man's eyes widened. "And you don't want to do Bamboo Dragon? Chuck, you want to cheat on the best Chinese place in town?"

Oh, crap. He had forgotten Morgan's ultimate loyalty to Bamboo Dragon. But he couldn't tell Morgan how taking Sarah to that restaurant would just remind her of work. He wanted someplace that wouldn't have such associations.

"It's just so crowded in Bamboo Dragon, because-because everyone knows how good it is!" Chuck said, thinking fast. "I want somewhere that we can hog a table for a while, you know what I mean?"

"Not really, but if that's what you want, lemme see . . ." Morgan pulled a small notebook out of the back pocket of his Dickies, flipping through the pages. "There's a few possibilities. I'll make you a list."

Chuck smiled widely. "Thanks, buddy. You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"Anything for you, Chuck," Morgan said, smiling back at him. "After all, seeing you get a girl like Sarah, it inspired me to make a play for Anna. Because it meant that anything was possible!"

Leaning back in his chair as Morgan scribbled down suggestions, Chuck thought over his friend's words. When it came to his relationship with Sarah, sometimes it was hard to see the glass as anything other than half-empty. To focus on how it felt real but wasn't. But he didn't want to think like that tonight.

Because anything was possible.

2. **Vs. Tom Sawyer**

With a triumphant smile, Sarah hung up and turned to look at Casey. "Stanford has finished reviewing the paperwork we sent in and they're issuing Chuck his diploma. He should have it in a few days."

Casey grunted and looked up from the guns he was cleaning. "Not saying the kid doesn't deserve his sheepskin, but you sure were gung-ho about getting it for him."

"Exactly-Chuck deserves this," Sarah said, gathering up the copies of the paperwork that they had sent to Stanford. "And this way he can have a real life someday."

Ever since the latest Bryce debacle and his ability to unsettle Chuck and send him into a tailspin, Sarah had been watching her asset closely. Not just because it was her job as Chuck's handler, but because . . . because she wanted to make sure he wasn't too miserable with all this. Being the Intersect, being an intelligence asset, it was a thankless burden for Chuck to carry. All he said was that he wanted to get the Intersect out of his head and go back to his old life. And Sarah could understand that. Even though he had all the qualities of a hero, Chuck wanted something simpler. So she would do whatever necessary for him to have what he wanted and more. She wanted him to have the kind of life he always imagined for himself.

A cleared record and his Stanford degree would go a long way towards that. She knew with his brains and his talents, Chuck would go far. He would be amazing. Even more amazing than he already was.

"You ever think maybe he should be doing this?"

Casey's voice made Sarah do a double-take. "What?"

"He was getting recruited. I don't know much about that Omaha project, but it wasn't about geeks gettin' turned into analysts," Casey said. "With how threatened Larkin is by Bartowski, kinda makes me think that with some actual training, he thinks the kid could be a real spy. And better than Larkin. Besides, the number of times Bartowski's gotten outta jams? That's something you can't be taught."

Sarah immediately shook her head. "No-no, he doesn't want that."

The NSA agent snorted and stood up. "Or he thinks he doesn't want that. You told him becomin' an agent was the way he would have a shot with you, your head would spin with how quick he'd sign up."

Was it possible to have your blood boil with anger while simultaneously going cold with fear? Because how dare Casey think Chuck was so easily motivated, to say that she would be reason enough for him to make such a risky decision? Not to mention what Casey must think of her that she'd only consider Chuck if he was an agent, too.

But more than that, she felt scared. Scared at the thought of Chuck as a spy, being ruthless and calculating and practical. No more taking crazy risks in order to save someone, no more goofy smiles and awkwardly successful attempts at making people feel better.

He wouldn't be Chuck anymore.

Swallowing, Sarah looked at Casey. "Are you sure the fumes from that new gun oil isn't making you think crazy things? Because all Chuck wants is to be normal. And with his degree he'll have a good chance of that, as soon as he no longer has the Intersect."

"Suit yourself," Casey said with a shrug, gathering up the cleaning supplies. "And this gun oil is something special. You'll be begging me to use it."

"Doubtful," Sarah said, letting her voice go sing-song in a way that drove Casey up the wall.

The NSA agent shot her a look but just clumped off towards the armoury. Sarah smiled a little and turned back to her computer, intending to begin reviewing the latest intelligence reports. But instead, she found herself opening up the folder that contained the papers they had sent in to Stanford.

As she read over their rationalizations for the credits Chuck should be awarded and why his record should be cleared so he could receive his degree, Sarah had to admit that while Casey had certainly helped, this project had been her idea. She had been the one to push Beckman to let them approach Stanford, to find out how they could get Chuck his diploma.

It was what he wanted. Something the CIA could do for him, after everything that Chuck had done for his country. He had done what was asked of him and more, without asking for hardly anything in return. And when he did ask, it was nearly always for someone else. Never for him.

Chuck deserved a reward. Wiping away the cheating allegations, letting him graduate in good standing, it was just a drop in the bucket from her perspective. But she knew he would be so happy with this small piece of compensation. Happy and touched and surprised that she had thought of it.

To be honest, she was surprised, too. It wasn't the kind of thing she would have come up with before this assignment. After all, her own Harvard degree was barely worth the paper it was printed on-not that she actually had a diploma. But spending time with Chuck, with his family and friends . . . she was changing. She had started changing the moment she saw Chuck hesitate and look at her before going to help that father and his daughter the ballerina.

Taking a breath, Sarah closed the file and put it to the side. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about this. About how things were different, confusing, and uncertain. Now it was time to figure out just why Jeff Barnes was important. Because after all, heroes didn't have to look like action movie stars or fairy tale princes. They could be anyone.

3. **Vs. the Delorean**

The British had nothing on Sarah Walker when it came to having a stiff upper lip, Chuck thought as he walked with her into her apartment building. The way she had so categorically denied that her father would return someday, the way she wouldn't let her walls down . . .

But Chuck understood. He really, really did. Because after all, she wasn't the only one to be hurt by a parent. And the fact they both had been disappointed by their fathers, time and time again-well, it was a realization he was going to tuck away in the back of his mind, to think over later. When he didn't have a much more important task to tackle.

Namely, finding a way to cheer up Sarah.

The fact that she let him wrap his jacket around her shoulders, that she was holding it closed even now that they were inside, it made him think she couldn't hold back her feelings forever, even though she was trying really hard. She didn't want to be alone right now and she wanted company. His company.

Chuck stood with Sarah in the elevator, watching the display count up to her floor as he considered his options. He knew what he would want to do in this situation: spend all night talking, working through his feelings. Using what he had learned in therapy to deal with his emotions. But that wasn't Sarah. No, she would want to figure this out on her own, getting everything clear in her head.

But if she didn't want to be alone right now, he'd stay with her. Gladly, willingly, doing everything in his power to give her what she needed. And if she didn't know what that was, he'd help her in whatever way she wanted.

The ding of the elevator doors opening made Sarah jump a little. She shook her head and gave him a small, hesitant smile.

"Lost in your thoughts, huh?" he asked, stepping off the elevator after her.

She nodded. "Yeah . . . um, are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat. You want to just order some room service?" he asked.

With another nod, Sarah turned to unlock the door of her apartment. "Although I don't know what to have. I'm hungry but I don't know what I want."

He gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic smile. "Why don't I order something and you take a shower or something? I mean, Ellie likes baths when she's had a hard day, with candles and a glass of wine and all that. I don't get it, but hey, she likes it."

Sarah's smile grew a bit more relaxed, a bit less hesitant. "That does sound good. You don't mind waiting around?"

"No, nope, I'm good," he said, shooing her off towards the bathroom. "If Morgan has the uncanny ability to find good cheap restaurants, I have the talent to pick out something to eat when you're indefinably hungry."

The soft laugh she let out made Chuck grin widely. "Okay, then," Sarah said, gathering a few things and stepping into the bathroom. "I won't be too long. But if the food gets here before I'm done, just let me know."

"Roger wilco," Chuck said, giving her a small salute. Sarah returned it before closing the door behind her.

Once the door was shut and the water started running, Chuck went over to the console table that held the TV. He knew that the room service menu was in a drawer in the table. Pulling out the menu, he ran his eyes over it, considering the options.

For the most part, Sarah ate healthy. She had certainly inspired him to take better care of his diet, to eat more vegetables and less processed foods. He certainly looked at Pringles a bit differently after hearing her opinion on them-although he still loved them and ate them often.

That wasn't to say that she didn't like unhealthy things. She definitely enjoyed cheeseburgers and fries, and then there was her big secret: her sweet tooth. One that she didn't indulge nearly as much as she could. But after a day like today, he thought Sarah could use some sweetness.

And that gave him an idea. One that she might love or which might make her want to strangle him. But hopefully, even if she was a bit taken aback, she'd understand and appreciate his intentions.

His mind made up, Chuck picked up the landline phone and punched the button for room service.

"Room service. How may I help you?"

"Hi," Chuck said, holding on to the menu tightly. "I'd like to place an order for room 804."

"Yes, sir, what would you like?" asked the polite female voice on the other end of the line.

Chuck took a deep breath. "The chopped Caesar salad, light on the dressing, please, and the roast chicken with vegetables. Some sparkling water to drink, too. And . . ." He hesitated and glanced over at the bathroom door, which was still firmly closed. Then he looked down at the menu. "And one of each of the desserts, except the ice cream trio."

There was a pause, then the attendant asked with a note of disbelief in her voice, "Each dessert, sir?"

"Yes," Chuck said, trying to sound as firm as he could. "The New York cheesecake, the flourless chocolate cake, the mini baklava, the fresh fruit crisp and the strawberry-rhubarb pie. And no ice cream on any of those that comes with it-just whipped cream, please."

"Very good, sir," the room service attendant said, with a note in her voice that said she thought he was going to regret this. "Your order will arrive in about forty-five minutes."

"Thank you very much," Chuck said, hanging up the phone and feeling the nerves dissipate slightly. It was done, and the worst that would happen is that he would be leaving without getting any dinner tonight.

Putting the menu away, Chuck sat down on the end of Sarah's bed and picked up the TV remote. He began flipping through the channels, looking for a movie they could watch while they waited for their food-and hopefully, that they would keep watching as they ate. Something that would take Sarah's mind off everything that had happened, something that would make her happy.

He couldn't do much, but if he could make her happy, Chuck would be okay with that.

4. **Vs. the Suburbs**

The sunlight coming in through the filmy drapes woke up Sarah. She wasn't a morning person, not really, but today she didn't mind being awake at this fairly early hour. Stretching a little, she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

She should be freaking out. Having to share this house in the suburbs with Chuck, pretending to be a married couple . . . all of her buttons should be getting pushed by this mission. But for some reason, they weren't. Of course there was some awkwardness and uncertainty, but the strongest feeling she had was trepidation at having Chuck in the midst of a Fulcrum cell. So far, though, the only danger to Chuck was from their neighbor, Sylvia.

Frowning, Sarah sat up and ran her hands through her hair. Instead of thinking about Sylvia, she wanted to consider what to do now that she was awake. Go for a run? Was that something women in the suburbs did? No, they probably met up in late morning with their neighbors for some kind of low-impact, low-result kind of workout. Like yogilates or something.

So what did a happy housewife do right after she woke up?

_Make breakfast for her husband._

Sarah felt her cheeks go pink. Pink enough to match the nightgown she had worn to bed, just in case . . .

Just in case of what?

Shaking her head, Sarah focused on the idea of breakfast. If any of their neighbors/possible Fulcrum agents dropped by, they'd expect to see Sarah cooking breakfast. So that's what she should do.

Thank God the CIA made sure that every agent, even ones that grew up on bologna sandwiches and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, knew how to cook a few basic dishes. The set-up team had fully stocked the kitchen, with food and dishes, so she should be no problem whipping up an omelet for Chuck.

It was so warm in this house. She needed to check the thermostat. Because that was the only reason her face felt so flushed.

Throwing back the covers, Sarah got out of bed and began running through her memories of learning how to make an omelet, going over a mental checklist of needed ingredients and what techniques she would need to use.

Once she was in the kitchen and actually cooking, though, the checklists and rules faded. Instead, she became caught up in the feel of the floor beneath her feet, the scent of onions and garlic and peppers, the sound of the pan sizzling and the eggs cracking. It became almost like meditation, feeling the flow of time and space around her and easing her way into her day.

Sarah let out a soft chuckle. It was a good thing this was all part of a cover, because if it wasn't-

If it wasn't . . . what? She came to a stop, standing in front of the oven with a spatula in her hand, as she thought about how it would be if this was her life. If she was a housewife and cooking breakfast for her husband was a normal everyday thing. If her husband would get up and come downstairs, a smile on his face and a bounce in his step, wondering what she had made this morning.

If her husband was Chuck.

Her face must be the color of a tomato now. But for once, Sarah didn't push away the thought. Didn't try to ignore the emotions such a thought created inside her.

Getting married, having a normal life . . . it was something she thought she couldn't have. Not while being a spy. But ever since she had met Chuck, she had found herself reconsidering that view. Because it would be nice to have someone like Chuck, someone who was always ready to listen to how her day had gone, someone who would comfort her when the day was bad or give her a high five when it had been good. Someone who understood her and knew she didn't like olives and secretly craved chocolate croissants and that her middle name was Lisa.

The feel of hot butter on her skin made Sarah jump, losing the track of her thoughts. The bit of butter she had put into the skillet to melt had long since dissolved and was now nearly to the point of being burnt. She quickly moved the pan to a different burner and took a deep breath.

This was so dangerous. Her feelings for Chuck were capable of totally destroying her. That was why she didn't let herself think about him. Because he made her want so much, things she shouldn't or wouldn't let herself have. But it was getting harder and harder to push away those feelings, to act unaffected by him. To not want to do more for him, to do things that couldn't be explained away by being his handler or even his friend.

Things like cooking him breakfast. Because more and more often, she justified doing the things she wanted as being "good for the cover" in order to hide her real reasons. And eventually, she would have to decide what was more important: her job or Chuck.

She could hear noises from upstairs. Chuck must be awake. The dilemma she was facing would have to wait for now.

Lifting up the skillet, Sarah carried it over to the sink and rinsed it out carefully. Then she set it back on the burner and added more butter to it. She double-checked her ingredients and got to work as soon as the butter was melted, keeping her mind firmly fixed on the omelet.

Right now, all she could do when it came to Chuck was let the cover hide anything more real that she might feel. That meant making him breakfast because it was what a suburban wife would do.

But that also meant she was going to make Chuck Bartowski the best damn omelet he had ever had.

5. **Vs. the Dream Job**

It was taking everything he had not to tightly grip his leather portfolio. Because the last thing he wanted was leave the imprint of his sweaty hands on the CIA's office supplies. Sarah had given it to him earlier, when he had mentioned he needed something to hold his resume during this job interview.

Instead of sweating all over the portfolio, Chuck took a few deep breaths. He could do this. After all, before he had been kicked out of Stanford, he had attended workshops at the career center on interview skills and getting ready for your first job. There had even been practice interviews and networking events, where he had done an okay job of selling himself, he thought.

So he just had to use some of those rules, like repeating people's names in order to remember them and making sure to offer ideas on how the company could be improved with his help. Things like that.

"_You're perfectly qualified to go in as yourself."_

Chuck closed his eyes for a moment. Sarah's confidence in him was . . . it was really nice. "Nice"? It was more than nice. It was unexpected, it was earth-shaking, it was overwhelming. And most of all, it was thought-provoking.

Over the last few months, he couldn't help feeling like he and Sarah were getting closer. Closer to something real. There was just too many times she had let slip how she felt about him, too many ways that she showed how she cared about him beyond his position as the Intersect.

She had gotten him his diploma from Stanford. When they had been in that house in the suburbs, she had cooked him breakfast. And she had found his father-it was too early to tell how that was going to turn out, but the very fact that she had broken so many rules to find Stephen Bartowski . . .

Were those the kinds of things a CIA agent did for an asset? Chuck didn't think so. He didn't think that Sarah was including those details in whatever reports she submitted. He frowned. At least, he hoped she wasn't. Not for the amusement of whatever officials had a high enough security clearance to read her reports. Plus, it would probably get her in trouble.

Shaking his head, Chuck tried to focus. Sarah's belief in him, that he would have no trouble getting this job as himself, made him feel good. Better than he had felt about himself in a long time. Before Bryce had sent him that email, he had been aimless, drifting, stuck. He was no less stuck now, but now he had a purpose. This wasn't how he had intended his life to be, it wasn't something he was all that good at, but . . . but he had a reason to keep going. Something that made him think that maybe this was all happening for a higher purpose.

It wasn't just because it had let him meet Sarah. Well, that was part of it. But more than that, Sarah had inspired him. Made him see how one person could make a difference. He was no hero like Sarah, or Casey, or Cole Barker. But there were times when he had managed to get past his fear and terror and do the right thing. Do something to save the day.

And that was a good feeling. One that he hoped he could keep having in a job that he was more suited for, like working on computers. Like this job at Roark, if it had been real and not for a mission.

Maybe that was what love was all about. Meeting someone and being inspired to be a better person. The best, most right version of yourself. He certainly felt that way around Sarah. And he hoped he would be able to justify her confidence in him and get this job.

Looking down, Chuck realized that the leather portfolio was covered in sweat stains and fingerprints. Deciding that it had lost whatever professional sleekness it once had, he pulled his resume out of the folder and set aside the portfolio.

"Chuck Bartowski?"

He sprang to his feet and smiled at the man who looked a few years younger than himself. This was it. Time to do his best. To be his best. Just like Sarah had taught him.

End, Chapter 2


	3. Season 3

**Real Love 3/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: This chapter was really interesting to write. Maybe it's just because I can find romance anywhere, even in early season three. So settle in and see if I've achieved that in this chapter!

XXX

1. **Vs. First Class**

The whole time Chuck was in the air on his way back to Burbank, Sarah felt edgy. Edgy and annoyed and frustrated-with Shaw, with Chuck, with just how screwed-up her life had become.

She wasn't holding Chuck back. Shaw just didn't understand what it was like, watching Chuck change from the sweet, sensitive nerd she had met three years ago into someone he wasn't. Someone who could lie without batting an eyelash, someone who said one thing when he was thinking something else. Someone like her.

And that was the last person she wanted Chuck to be. The last person anyone should want to become. Not when Chuck had so much potential, not when he was so much better than anyone else-

Taking a deep breath, Sarah made herself focus on her paperwork. She shouldn't be worrying about Chuck like this. After his choice in Prague, she had pushed down all the feelings she had started to allow herself to experience for him. It wasn't the first time she had done so. She had buried her feelings about Bryce, about her father, about Graham's death and a hundred other disappointments and regrets. But for some reason, Chuck wouldn't stay in the box in which she tried to keep him.

Wasn't that his defining characteristic? Chuck Bartowski refused to live with a no when he knew the answer was actually yes. All the times he had been told something wasn't possible or practical, if Chuck thought differently he would go right ahead, running full-steam into danger just to save someone else or prevent anyone from feeling pain.

In a normal person, it was admirable and impressive. In a spy, it got you killed.

All the times she had tried to teach Chuck that lesson, tried to make him see why he couldn't save everyone, he couldn't seem to grasp it. Even with being a certifiable genius, Chuck didn't understand that not everyone could be rescued.

_And you're being deliberately unfair_, a voice inside her head muttered. A voice that sounded a little like Shaw, which made her even more annoyed.

Because even with that failing, Chuck always seemed to escape the danger by the skin of his teeth. Found a way to complete the mission, or even go beyond it and get more than they could have hoped for. It was uncanny.

Look at the mission Shaw had sent Chuck on: even with two Ring operatives on the plane, Chuck had gotten the key. And he had done it his way, without using deadly force. He might have needed assistance from herself and Shaw-thank God she had spent some time recently brushing up on her flying skills-but Chuck had done it.

Sarah let the papers she was pretending to read fall to the table as she thought this over. Was Shaw right? Had Chuck been held back by Casey and herself? Could Chuck really do this without compromising his morals and values?

Her heart beat a little harder at the thought. Because-because if he could, that meant maybe . . . maybe she didn't have to keep those feelings buried, because-

No. No, that wasn't possible. Chuck might defy odds and break all the rules, but there was no way he could be a spy, a real spy, without becoming something cold and hard and not-Chuck. The Red Test alone would make sure of that.

There was no chance their previous tentative attempts at a relationship would ever be anything more than that-attempts that never had any hope of succeeding. The sooner she accepted that, the sooner she would be able to close the box on Chuck Bartowski and move on.

The sound of footsteps made her gather her papers together and turn towards the staircase that lead down from the entrance of Castle. Shaw was followed by Chuck, the two men talking quietly.

For some reason, Sarah found herself looking long and hard at Chuck. Taking in the rumpled suit that still fit him so well, the pale circles under his eyes that spoke to sleeping on a plane, and the messy curls that appeared to have fingers run through them several times.

And in that moment, Sarah knew that she wouldn't be able to close the box on Chuck. Wouldn't be able to bury her feelings. Even when her head gave her a million reasons why she shouldn't want him to be a spy, why they couldn't be together, why she should just let him go . . . she couldn't do it.

Because for the first time in her life, Sarah Walker's heart was stronger than her head. And maybe that was what she had to learn to deal with, instead of trying to be logical and reasonable.

Maybe it was time to be emotional.

2. **Vs. the Mask**

"_What can I say? I have a type."_

He kept hearing Sarah's words in his head as he walked away from her. They were repeating on a loop, almost until they lost all meaning. Yet he still kept hearing them.

It was ridiculous to be fixating on a simple off-hand remark. And it wasn't like he didn't know it was true. Sarah Walker did have a type. The strong, daring, ultra-heroic type. The kind of man who could leap tall buildings in a single bound and save the day without ever losing his cool. That was the kind of man that Sarah deserved, that Sarah belonged with.

The kind of man he wasn't. Because Prague had proven that.

As he stepped into the elevator that would take him to the home theater room in the Buy More, Chuck let out a sigh. Sarah had made it clear that he had no chance with her, not after how he had betrayed and hurt her. And he got that, he did. Because Sarah Walker didn't trust easily. He had been given a precious gift and he hadn't respected it enough to treat it, to treat her, properly. Now he had to live with the consequences of his actions.

And he was really trying. After all, he had Hannah now, who was sweet and pretty. Hannah, who was waiting for him in the break room so he could take her home. Hannah was the kind of woman he had always been attracted to: nice, nerdy brunettes. Sarah was the anomaly, with her blonde hair and complete lack of interest in comic books or video games.

Besides, Sarah was with Shaw. He was just the kind of guy that Sarah went for, all square-jawed and handsome. Ridiculously handsome, according to Hannah. Sarah and Shaw fit. Together, they looked like a CIA recruiting poster. Not like him and Sarah together.

So even with all this knowledge, all his attempts at being practical, he still couldn't stop hearing Sarah's words in his head. _What can I say? I have a type. What can I say? I have a type. What can I say? I have a type. WhatcanIsay? Ihaveatype. WhatcanIsay? Ihaveatype. WhatcanIsay? Ihaveatype. WhatcanIsay? ?Ihaveatype._

Chuck came to a stop just inside the hallway to the break room and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to stop this train of thought. Trying to keep his mind from this. Because the more he thought about Sarah's type, the more he wondered-

"Hey!" Hannah popped out of the break room, smiling brightly at Chuck.

It was all he could do not to topple over. Because who wants their girlfriend to appear when they were thinking about someone else? Shoving aside the guilt he felt, Chuck gave Hannah a big smile. "Hey!" For good measure, he leaned down and pecked her lips.

"I'm ready to get some takeout and be escorted home," she said, looking up at him with an adoring expression on her face. Wait, adoring? Was that accurate? Wasn't it a bit belittling to put Hannah's look in those terms? And why was he letting his mind go off on a tangent like this?

"Oh, um, just . . . I need to finish up one more thing-give me ten more minutes?" Chuck said, fidgeting with the end of his tie. "Here, have a coffee on me," he said, reaching into the pocket of his pants and then pressing some change into her hand.

Hannah pouted a little. "Okay. Meet me in the home theater room in ten?" She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Yeah. Yes, definitely," Chuck said, giving her a smile that he hoped looked eager and enthusiastic.

Giving him a little wave of her fingers, she went into the break room.

He waved back, watching her go before turning to find someplace to go. Someplace that he could deal with these feelings he still had for Sarah. And the guilt he felt for thinking about Sarah at all. Because he wasn't her type at all.

But what if he was Sarah's type? What kind of man would he be? Dashing and charming, full of charisma, a James Bond kind of guy. Equally at home in a tuxedo as in a sweat-stained t-shirt and gym shorts. Strong, smart, savvy. Someone who could match her in the field and in the bedroom.

Chuck felt his ears go red. He needed to stop thinking about this. Stop thinking about Sarah. It was over. He had Hannah now, and if he wasn't careful he'd mess that up, too. So he hurried towards the home theater room.

Because after all, he was Hannah's type. And it was time to appreciate that. To forget about Sarah and focus on the woman he was with instead of the one he could never have.

3. **Vs. the Honeymooners**

Before tonight, Sarah had spent a few nights in bed with Chuck. Always for his protection or for the cover. With being on the job, that meant she had stayed professional. Hadn't let herself gaze at him, trying to learn the things she wanted to know. Like what he looked like while he slept, whether he hogged the covers, if he would mind her always-cold feet.

But now, she could watch him sleep as much as she wanted. She knew that he was very generous with the covers. And when he discovered her icy toes, he had immediately sandwiched her feet between his, warming them up. Warming up more of her than he realized, in fact.

How had she lived so long without him? Without this? Curled up in bed together, their naked bodies pressed together and in complete harmony? Getting to watch him breathe in and out, his unfairly-long eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his arms wrapped around her?

Sarah didn't know. But she did know that she wasn't ever going to let Chuck Bartowski go without a fight.

Because he was absolutely adorable when he slept. But even more when he was awake.

She felt an embarrassed smile on her face at using a word like adorable. But she didn't mind being a bit embarrassed. Not when it meant what she could do now. Giving in to her desire, Sarah pressed her lips to his cheek. She peppered his face with kisses, slowly drawing him out of his sleep. And when she knew he was very close to being awake, she covered his mouth with hers, sweetly kissing him.

"Mmmmmm . . ." he murmured against her lips. "I was asleep," he said softly with his eyes still closed, his voice a bit thick with sleep.

"I know," Sarah said, brushing her nose against his. "But you're so gorgeous, I wanted you to wake up."

That made his eyes pop open, the warm amber-brown color sparking with surprise. "Gorgeous?"

She felt her cheeks go pink as she nodded. Because "gorgeous" wasn't a word she used normally. And this thing between them was still so new, so unformed, in spite of them knowing each other for so long. Things that had worked in their cover relationship might not work now and vice versa. They'd have to discover those things all over again.

If Chuck's reaction was anything to judge by, he was realizing that, too. And he was just as happy about it as she was.

"'Gorgeous' is nice," Chuck said, then he rolled his eyes. "And what a massive understatement that is."

Giggling softly, Sarah kissed his cheek before curling up against him. She had never exactly been a cuddler, but Chuck was always so warm and it felt so good to be close to him after holding herself back for so long.

He wrapped his arms around her again and held her close. "So why did you want me awake?"

With a self-conscious shrug, she looked up at him. How could she put in words the feeling she had, the need to have him gazing at her and holding her and making her feel safe?

The physical impact of Shaw's actions would be easier to heal than the emotional one, she suspected. And she didn't like feeling shaky like this. But . . . but if there was anyone in the world who could make that uneasy, uncertain feeling less scary, it was Chuck.

And somehow, he managed to get a sense of what was going on inside her. Because he leaned in and kissed her slowly, his fingers softly stroking her back and her jaw. As he did so, Sarah felt the fading of the tension she hadn't even realized she was carrying.

Sighing against his lips, Sarah nuzzled him. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Shhh," he murmured, kissing her lightly. "Any time."

The sincerity in his voice made Sarah look at him and smile a little. "You say that now . . ."

Chuck laughed, a sound she was becoming even more addicted to when she knew he was laughing because of her. "Nope. Not the honeymoon talking. If you need me, you can wake me up, interrupt my video game, whatever."

"Really?" Sarah said, arching an eyebrow. "That's not what you said that time you were playing that game with Morgan, the one with all the shooting . . ."

His ears went red but he grinned. "Okay, so maybe you just need to learn how to interrupt me when I'm gaming."

"Oooh. This could be fun," Sarah said, propping her head up on her hand and giving Chuck a saucy grin.

He laughed again, and Sarah laughed, and it was all so perfect and happy and good that the darkness receded nearly out of sight. Because they were together and everything was brightness and sunshine at the moment. She knew there would be times when it wasn't, but for now? Now, she was going to soak up all this joy and bliss, without worrying about what was to come.

They deserved that.

XXX

He couldn't stop looking at Sarah out of the corner of his eye. Couldn't fully believe that here they were, driving back to his place after the briefing with General Beckman. Together. Exclusively, to use Sarah's word, which was really a perfect word to describe them.

Exclusively. Shutting out anyone else, restricted to just Chuck and Sarah. Yeah, that was right.

That was how their time on the train had been, at least. It had been nice-and why did he keep defaulting to such a nothing word?-to be in that bubble, to spend so much time together. Now that they were back in the real world, though, now that they were facing all the logistics and announcements and the day-to-day ups and downs . . . what was going to happen now?

Like at this moment: out of habit, he had started going towards Echo Park. But what if Sarah wanted to go back to her place? She might want to take some time to adjust to everything now that they were back. If nothing else, she probably wanted to get some clean clothes.

It took him five minutes before he worked up the courage to speak. "Sarah?"

"Yeah?" she said, looking away from the window. "What is it, Chuck?"

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "I just realized, you probably want to go to your place."

Looking over, he saw Sarah's brows knit together. "Why?" she asked, sounding confused. Then her face went carefully blank. "I thought we were going back to your place, but if you want some space . . ."

"No! I don't," he said in a rush, sparing as much of a look at her as the roads would allow. "But I thought you might, because-"

Chuck cut himself off before he said something stupid. Because he felt nervous and unsure suddenly and now he was wishing they were still on that train.

Her eyes were on him; he could feel them. Hesitantly, Chuck looked over at her and felt his heart flutter in his chest, in a literal way, at the smile on her face. She reached out and ran a hand through his hair gently.

"We don't have to go back to my place. I don't need anything there. Although I think I'll have to borrow something from you to sleep in," Sarah said softly.

God, he really needed to get his heart checked out if it was going to keep beating strangely like this. Chuck swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Of course. I-I've got plenty of things for you to sleep in. Which is good, because . . . because it's hard to say what's worse, being naked and cold or being warm and wearing dirty clothes. What do you think? What's worse? I think being naked. Because it's all . . . cold."

The more he babbled, the bigger Sarah's smile got. "And this has nothing to do with that guy thing about liking to see their girlfriend wearing their clothes?"

"G-girlfriend?"

He hadn't meant to get stuck on that, really. His brain actually fought over whether to focus on Sarah in his clothes or how casually she used the word 'girlfriend'. Like there was no need to discuss it, like there was nothing to worry about. He didn't want to make this into a bigger deal than it was.

Although, seriously? Having Sarah be so comfortable with this huge change, having her appear so confident and sure of them? It made him feel like the luckiest damn man in the whole entire world-and like the world's biggest worry wart, too.

They were together. If they could figure out a way to make that happen, after all the stops and starts, to come back to their two hearts, and-

_Oh my God_, he thought to himself. _I'm quoting the lyrics to After All, the cheesiest song ever written_.

Taking a breath, Chuck got himself together as much as he could. Clearing his throat, he resumed driving towards Echo Park. "Y-yeah, most guys like it when the woman they're dating wears their clothes."

"And what about you?" Sarah asked, reaching out and resting her hand on his shoulder, gently stroking it.

"Um-I like it," he said, trying not to crush the wheel with his grip. Which was impossible because he wasn't Casey, after all. "Especially when it was you."

He could sense Sarah going through her memories, then she smiled a little. "When you were under twenty-four-hour protection, during the Cole Barker mission. I wore your shirt."

"Yeah." He didn't say it, but he remembered that t-shirt very well. The t-shirt he had been wearing when he went to Sarah's place after the Roan Montgomery mission. When he was going to try and seduce Sarah, only for Bryce to appear at the door. That made all his plans go out the window.

Sarah's hand slid down his arm from his shoulder, her fingers gently wrapping around his hand until he removed it from the wheel. She rubbed his fingers softly. "I liked wearing your shirt. I'm looking forward to going through your wardrobe for something to wear tonight. For at least part of the night."

As he parked the car, Chuck glanced over at her. She gave him a small, impish smile. "I doubt that if we're naked together, either of us will be cold."

"Gah!" he said, unable to help it. "Are you trying to break me?!"

"Maybe," she said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Hmmm. As confident as the last week had made him, he wasn't sure he wanted to respond to Sarah's flirtatious come-ons with an equal response. No . . . no, he had something more romantic in mind. Something that would involve fixing Sarah's lack of a favorite song, he hoped.

So he just gave her a small smile and returned her hand squeeze before hopping out of the car.

4. **Vs. the Tooth**

Until recently, Sarah had thought she knew everything there was to know about Chuck Bartowski. After all, she had spent so much time with him. There was the three years of working with him, seeing him under a wide range of conditions. There were all the cover dates, the stories that Ellie had told, watching him interact with Morgan and his coworkers. Before she began dating Chuck for real, Sarah was confident that there wouldn't be many surprises.

She was so wrong.

Because she was learning that Chuck the boyfriend was very different from Chuck the asset or Chuck the friend. And most of the differences were good. She liked those differences. But there was one little problem. No, not problem, just . . .

Sarah sighed and looked down at Chuck, who had fallen asleep during the goofy spy movie they had been watching. There was a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, unlike how he normally looked when he slept. Lightly, she stroked his forehead and saw the wrinkle smooth out.

Was he worrying about what had happened before he fell asleep? How he had said "I love you" and she hadn't been able to say anything back?

How was he so open? After all the ways he had been hurt and how she had let him down, he was willing to put his heart on the line and tell her how he felt about her. To say the words, knowing that she might not say them back, and when she didn't, to give her a little smile. Like he understood why she couldn't say it and still loved her anyway.

It was that smile of his that really made it worse. Because it was so sweet and loving, it made her own heart hurt. Made her wish she could just give him what he wanted and say what she felt.

When it came to Chuck, she had always felt more than she had let on. More than she had shown, even in the times when she _knew_ she was giving him too much hope and too many mixed signals. Now there was no reason to hold back, no reason to keep her feelings inside. So why couldn't she just tell him?

Why couldn't she tell him that he always seemed to give her what she needed? How come she couldn't say how much he had changed her, made her into a better person? What could explain how hard it was to tell Chuck she loved him?

Because she did. She loved Chuck Bartowski. It had taken a long time for her to figure out her feelings, but she knew that was what she felt for the man sleeping with his head in her lap.

Sarah slid her hand into Chuck's hair, stroking the soft curls. She loved him. Loved his positive traits, loved his flaws, loved everything there was about him. It had been a long, hard road to get to this point, to this new shared life with Chuck. And getting to be with him was more than she had hoped it would be.

There were the shared jokes, the quiet times, the nights spent together . . . things she had been craving, with Chuck, for a long time. And now she had them-yet she couldn't tell him that she loved him.

At that moment, with her fingers in Chuck's hair and the wrinkle appearing on his forehead again, Sarah knew that she had to find a way to get the words out. Because she wanted him to know how she felt. Wanted to see how his face would light up, wanted to see that special smile that he seemed to keep only for her, when she said those three little words.

5. **Vs. the Ring Part II**

With a start, Chuck found himself aware of reality. He looked around, a little confused at being in the passenger seat of Sarah's car. And wearing a dark suit. And clutching a wad of tissues in his hand. Then, as it had happened before, the memories hit him like a freight train.

His father was dead. Not just lost or in hiding, but dead. Gone forever. And there was so much left unsaid, so many things he still wanted his father to know about . . . and now he never would. Stephen Bartowski would never watch his son get married or hold his future grandchildren or even get a chance to make up for his past mistakes, like never making pancakes for his daughter.

The pain was too much to bear. He couldn't do this. He just wanted to stay in that oblivious daze, the one where he didn't have to face his grief and heartbreak. Why couldn't he just stay numb?

A soft, warm pair of fingers closed around his cold hand. "Chuck?"

Sniffing quietly, Chuck tried to get himself under control. "Y-yeah?" he asked, his voice breaking a little.

"I'm here," Sarah said softly, holding his hand tightly while steering the car with her other hand. Dimly, he realized how worried she must be about him, because Sarah Walker was not one to drive without both hands on the wheel. That is, unless she needed a hand free to shoot the bad guys.

He swallowed. "I know."

She rubbed her thumb against his hand. "Is your tie okay? I just picked one, since . . . since you didn't really have an opinion when I asked."

"Huh?" Then he looked down and saw the blue-and-white striped tie he was wearing. And he felt the tears that he was barely holding back streak down his cheeks.

Because it was his Dad tie. The tie that went with his Dad suit, the one he hadn't worn for two years after Sarah had insisted they go shopping for a suit that would really fit him, instead of the hand-me-down from his father. He had agreed with Sarah, but he had kept the tie. And somehow, she had chosen that one for him today.

"Chuck?"

The fear and worry in Sarah's voice, the tightening grip of her hand around his, the car sliding through traffic and coming to a stop by the side of the road-they only slightly penetrated the grief. But what did puncture it like a pin in a balloon was the feel of Sarah wrapping her arms around him, her body twisting to land half in his lap.

And that was what he needed right now. So he buried his face in her shoulder and babbled.

"It-it's like I'm an orphan now for real. 'Cause Mom . . . we don't know where she is and she could be dead, too, just like Dad . . . Sarah, why does it hurt? Why do I miss him so much, when he was never t-there for me?"

Sarah's hand stroked his hair slowly as her other hand rubbed circles on his upper back. "I don't know, baby," she said softly. He felt her lips press a soft kiss against his temple.

Acting on instinct, he held her tightly. "What am I gonna do?" he asked, not knowing how to explain what he was feeling. Not knowing how Sarah or Ellie or Morgan or anyone could help him with this hole in his chest.

She pulled away a little, enough that Chuck could see her, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach at the way she looked. Her nose was a bit pink, her eyes were watery, and all the lipstick was gone from her lower lip.

Just as much as he was hurting, so was she. And that made him remember how similar their fathers were and how this must be bringing up so many issues for Sarah, yet here she was, putting all her energy into comforting him.

"Oh, Sarah, I'm sorry-I forgot about your dad-"

"Shhhh," she said immediately, stroking the side of his face. "It's okay. I just-I've never seen you like this and it hurts so much that I can't do anything."

Chuck swallowed. How much worse would it be if he was all alone? If he didn't have Sarah right now to comfort him? No, he wasn't totally alone-he had Ellie and Morgan, too. But Morgan had his own memories of Stephen Bartowski to mourn, and Ellie . . .

The two Bartowski siblings had been spending a lot of time together in the last few days. Crying, talking, making arrangements. By last night, Chuck almost didn't want to see Ellie, because seeing her reminded him too much of all the pain and hurt. That was why he had started retreating into numbness.

Ellie had Devon to comfort her last night. And he had Sarah to do the same for him right now. And suddenly, he was so full of love and gratitude, in the midst of all his sadness, that he just had to kiss her.

And as Sarah kissed him back, he knew she understood what he wasn't able to say.

End, Chapter 3


	4. Season 4

**Real Love 4/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: And now, time for some fluff! Well, not just fluff-there's some deeper emotions at work here, but writing this chapter made me remember just how happy so much of season 4 is, thanks to Chuck and Sarah being together. So I hope you enjoy this collection of season 4 moments!

XXX

1. **Vs. the Anniversary**

Another assignment, Sarah thought with a sigh as she grabbed her suitcase from the bedroom closet. This hunt for Alexei Volkoff was becoming an obsession for the CIA, and it meant that she and Casey had been globe-trotting for the last three months.

She had only gotten home last night after three weeks away. Now she was going back out again and . . . she wished she wasn't. For the first time in her adult life, Sarah Walker wished she could stay in one place instead of going on a spy mission.

With what she had here, in her home, it wasn't surprising that she wanted to stay, she thought with a tiny, embarrassed smile. After five months together, things with Chuck were still so amazing that she couldn't help feeling sheepish. Because as much as she did miss having Chuck in the field with her, knowing that when the job was done, he would be waiting for her . . .

Her flush deepened and Sarah made herself focus on packing. Casey would be picking her up in an hour and she needed to make sure she was actually taking clean clothes, clothes that she could wear safely in public without attracting attention. Two missions ago, she had let Chuck distract her during her packing and she had left without any underwear or clean trousers.

Sarah held back a giggle at the memory of Chuck's horrified yet slightly aroused gasp when she had told him that fact over the phone. Of course he was upset that she didn't have underwear and had to purchase some . . . but she knew he was also thinking about her going commando. She would have to remember that for another time.

God, she missed him when she was gone. Before they got together, there were times when she had craved some distance from him. But she knew now it wasn't about wanting to be separated from Chuck-it was about the feelings he had awoken inside her, emotions that she couldn't indulge. Being around him and wanting him but knowing she couldn't have him was a gnawing pain. As if she had a gunshot wound that was healing slowly and provoking a deep itch inside her.

Now, the ache was clear and sharp, like she was missing a limb. Not just because of Chuck's abilities in the field, but because of him. Of having him there to offer a joke when the situation got too tense or to give her one of those tiny half-smiles that made her want to hold him forever.

It was wonderful to come home to him, but she wished she had a way to keep Chuck close when she was gone. Something that would let her take a little bit of the feeling she had when she was home with her.

Her suitcase was only half-packed, but Sarah realized she was sitting beside her suitcase, gazing at the photo of herself and Chuck from their first Halloween. The real photo, the one she had taken to replace the Photoshop job the CIA had provided for her.

That was what she needed. A photo of them, together. Not that photo, though-she knew exactly what she wanted. She just had to find it.

Picking up her phone, she started scrolling through the various photos she had saved on there. At first, her phone had just been about protecting the cover, but now it was chock-full of moments in her life. Real moments: happy, silly, or a little bit sad, they put on full display what Sarah Walker's life was.

But there was a photo, taken as part of a reinforcing-the-cover photo shoot, that she knew she wanted. Because it was her and Chuck in Palm Springs, looking happy and a little silly, a moment that went beyond the fake relationship they used to have and hinted at what they would someday have. What they had now.

At least, that's what she thought. And it was such an adorable photo of Chuck, one that she had used as the wallpaper on her phone for over a year, that she wanted to have an actual physical copy of it.

Giving thanks that Chuck had taught her how to print photos from her phone, Sarah sat down at his computer and quickly printed the image. Just as the printer was finishing, she heard the sound of the front door opening, and Sarah grabbed the photo and tucked it into her suitcase.

"Sarah?"

"In here, Chuck!" she called, bracing herself to give him the bad news. But as soon as he walked in and saw her suitcase, she knew that he would know.

And even though her packing job wasn't done, Sarah ignored it so she could make Chuck feel a little bit better about her leaving again.

2. **Vs. the Coup d'Etat**

This was pretty awesome, Chuck thought to himself as he knotted his tie. Getting an all-expenses-paid trip to paradise, spending time with Ellie and Devon and observing their happy married vibe and figuring out how he might get to that place with Sarah someday . . . it was a win-win.

Today had been spent on the beach, soaking up the sun, swimming in the warm blue waters, and drinking quite a few fruity alcoholic beverages. He could feel a slight pulling across his shoulders that foretold a mild sunburn and his head still felt a bit woozy from the combination of sun and alcohol, but Chuck didn't mind. He loved this "I'm on vacation" feeling, and not just because it had been a while since he had gotten an actual vacation.

No, it was amazing because he was on this vacation with Sarah. Spending time together, getting a chance to really connect with her . . . figuring out if maybe he should propose.

Lately, whenever he thought about asking Sarah to marry him, he felt his stomach do a flip-flop. Because it was crazy. They hadn't even been dating for a year, yet he was more than ready to proclaim that he wanted to spend all the rest of his years with her. Not that this was anything new to Chuck; he had known pretty early on that the chance of finding a woman who could compare to Sarah was somewhere between slim and remote.

But it was one thing if he was ready to pop the question. But what if Sarah wasn't ready to be popped the question?

Chuck paused and shook his head at that sentence before focusing on the problem at hand. Part of loving Sarah was accepting her, as she was, with all her faults and flaws. Not that he sat around cataloging those tiny, insignificant little imperfections, and not that they changed how he felt about her. It just meant he had to keep himself from getting carried away, from going full steam ahead when Sarah wasn't ready for that.

While Chuck was willing to jump in with both feet, Sarah was more cautious, especially when it came to her feelings. It had taken them so long to get together, he couldn't expect Sarah to be at the same point he had already reached. He just had to be patient.

In a whirl of long skirts and a cloud of gardenia and coconut, Sarah walked out of the bathroom and came over to stand beside him in front of the mirror. "Almost ready to go?" she asked, smiling at him as she put on some jewelry.

"I thought I was," Chuck said, taking in his girlfriend, "but then you came out looking like that, and suddenly I don't want to go anywhere."

Sarah gave him a small smile as she inserted an earring. "The feeling is mutual, but do you really want to leave Ellie and Devon alone at a party thrown by a formerly evil dictator?"

"I gotta say, it's hard seeing how Premier Goya was the man Casey spent six months tracking," Chuck said, scooping up his jacket off the bed and sliding it on. "But since I have been hoping to dance with you, and there's not nearly enough room in here to do that, and I've been wanting to do that for a long time . . ."

"You've wanted to dance with me?" Sarah asked, looking up at him.

Chuck nodded. "Oh, yeah. We did the last time we were here, remember? But things weren't good with us so I couldn't enjoy it as much as I wanted."

"I remember." Sarah's voice was soft as she moved closer to him, reaching out to stroke the lapels of his jacket.

Was it hot in here? Why hadn't he remembered that tropical paradises were hot when he packed this suit? Chuck swallowed. "Um, so, yeah, dancing! I want to dance with you, which I suppose shows how much I've changed since I'm even willing to consider doing it, without even thinking about social lubrication first."

She was still touching him and it was getting harder to think.

"So nothing like our first first date?" she asked with a soft smirk, gazing up at him.

And this wasn't fair. He knew there had been plenty of times when the shoe was on the other foot and Sarah had been swept off her feet by him. There had to be, right? Like-like the last time they danced!

"No, nothing like then," he said, gently lifting one of her hands from his lapel and holding it loosely, while his other hand settled on her lower back. "More like the last time we danced. Because I know, once you got over being surprised . . . you liked it."

With that, Chuck pressed gently against her back and set them into motion, dancing in the small amount of space there was in their room. And Sarah just went with it. Following his lead, trusting him, gazing up at him with a small smile and making him feel like the best dancer ever.

"As good as this feels . . . just imagine what it'll be like on that nice big dance floor downstairs," Chuck said softly, bringing them to a stop.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her eyes were sparkling. When she spoke, her voice was low and throaty, in that way meant she was turned on. "Or we could stay here for another kind of dancing."

"Yeah . . ." he said slowly, before shaking his head. "No, no, Ellie and Devon! And-and vertical dancing. C'mon, that'll be fun, right? We'll dance, we'll have a few drinks, we'll keep the vacation going, right?"

Sarah looked up at him, then burst into giggles. "Yes, okay," she said with a nod through her laughter. "But rain check?"

He nodded so quickly, it was amazing he didn't fracture his neck. "Yes. Yes. Very much yes. Most definitely, we are on for a rain check."

That just set Sarah off again. Other men might mind having their beautiful, sexy, amazing girlfriend laughing at them, but Chuck didn't mind. Not when it meant they would come back here at the end of the night and . . . well, that was for later.

Now, they were going to dance.

3. **Vs. Phase Three**

Her hands were shaking a little as she scooped the coffee into the filter. Then Sarah paused. Should someone in Chuck's condition have coffee? Caffeine might be bad for him. Tea-tea would be better! Or juice-she definitely needed to remember orange juice, a nice big glass of-what was burning?

Turning to the stove, Sarah let out a soft curse in Polish and yanked the pan of burnt butter off the heat. She turned off the burner and made herself take a few long, deep breaths.

Ever since the Belgian had taken Chuck, she felt like she had been on a roller-coaster. Or, more correctly, that her emotions had been on said roller-coaster. Shock, despair, worry, longing, hopelessness, fear . . . all culminating in the moment that she could feel Chuck's lips moving against hers, and she pulled back and saw him looking at her with a dazed expression in his beautiful eyes.

It had been a relief. A source of overwhelming gratitude to whomever had been looking out for Chuck and keeping him safe. But now that they were home, her emotions were still so unsettled. So unpredictable.

Logically, she knew it was just a reaction to the stress and turmoil and that in a few days, once it fully sank in that Chuck was okay, she would be back to normal. But until then, she was going to struggle. And take care of Chuck and pamper him and fulfill his every need or desire.

Like making him breakfast in bed.

With strengthened resolve, Sarah got to work. Soon, she had a fruit salad, bread in the toaster, and an omelet started in another skillet. Everything seemed to be working perfectly now, just like she wanted. Because it wasn't for her-it was for Chuck.

Sarah stepped lightly down the hall with a loaded tray of food, amused at how her spy training kept paying off in unusual ways. Smiling to herself, she eased open the door to their bedroom, happy to see that Chuck was still sleeping.

Putting down the tray, Sarah gazed at him. Taking in his still-too-thin face, the slight pallor to his skin and the bags under his eyes. Yet he was here: breathing slowly, his eyelids fluttering slightly and the covers pulled up to his chin. Just like he looked so many other times they had slept in this bed together, the way she hoped he would look for all the time they had ahead of them now.

Carefully, Sarah slipped into bed and moved in against Chuck. He was so warm, even now as he was recovering. She held her feet back, not wanting to give him the rude awakening of her ice blocks for feet rubbing up against his. Instead, she reached out and lightly ran her fingers through his hair, in the way he liked so much.

Just as she hoped, a small smile quirked his lips and his eyes slowly opened. And the look of utter contentment made Sarah's heart swell with love and happiness and joy, so all her fears seemed to drift away.

"Mmm . . . hey, baby," Chuck said softly. She could hear the sleepiness in his voice, but he also sounded stronger.

"Hey," she said, brushing a delicate kiss over his lips. "Hungry?"

"Starving," he said, giving her a slightly-restrained version of his Bartowski Eyebrow Dance.

Letting out a soft laugh, Sarah kissed him again. "Nice try. How about we start with breakfast and go from there?"

The most adorable pout crossed Chuck's face for a moment, but then he nodded and smiled at her. "Yeah. Since I can barely sit up for longer than ten minutes, might be a bit cocky of me to think I'm up for anything else. But then, you are so very inspirational . . ."

He let his voice trail off as he waggled his eyebrows again. And because Sarah knew he was doing this more for her than himself-that he was acting as if he couldn't wait to have sex in order to prove that he was fine, that he was still her Chuck-she laughed and found herself teasing him back.

"I think an omelet, toast and fruit would be more inspirational for you right now," Sarah said, moving to get out of bed and get the food. But Chuck reached out and took her hand.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" Her expression must have been somewhat scornful, even though she didn't mean to let that show, because Chuck immediately looked sheepish. "Stupid question, I know. But you still haven't talked about what happened while I was gone, and you've gotta be feeling the effects of kicking all of Thailand's ass to get to me, and-and if you were mad at me-"

"Mad? At you?" Sarah interrupted, unable to believe what he was saying. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Chuck moved a little, pushing himself slowly into a sitting position. "For not listening to you. For going off with Rye when the Intersect wasn't working, for putting myself in danger and getting another agent killed, for making you go through so much just to-"

Again, she had to interrupt him. "Just to what? Just to save the man I love, just to keep you safe?" She paused, feeling her heart sink to somewhere lower than her feet. "Did you think I'd say 'to keep the Intersect safe'?"

"God, Sarah, no," he said, reaching out and gripping her upper arms. "I just-I didn't listen to you because I was so stuck in my own head, so convinced that if I didn't have the Intersect you wouldn't want me and . . . and I was so stupid."

His voice was so contrite and his words were so heart-wrenching that Sarah had to lower her head to hide the tears that were pricking her eyelids. Chuck was right: he was stupid. So very, very stupid. And she loved him so much, and he wanted to marry her, and, and-

And she didn't want to hide her tears. So Sarah reached out and wrapped her arms around Chuck's neck, holding him so tightly as she pressed her face against his shoulder and felt a few tears leak out. But Chuck's arms immediately settled around her, and his hands were stroking her back and her hair, and he was saying soft little words to soothe her.

Sarah had wanted to pamper Chuck. But like always, he found a way to take care of her, too.

4. **Vs. the Push Mix**

Of all the things he could do the morning after he got engaged, Chuck Bartowski never thought he'd be staring at his new fiancée's hand. Especially not considering that he had gone weeks without seeing Sarah and had missed her so much.

But the thing was, Sarah's hand now had his engagement ring on it. And her hand was already perfect to him: yeah, she might have some callouses on her palm, and an index finger that was a tiny bit crooked from what he guessed was a previous broken bone that hadn't healed correctly. But he had always thought her hands were the perfect expression of herself.

And now her hand had a symbol of his love for her. A symbol of what their future was going to be. And it was all so amazing, to have this with Sarah after years of thinking there was no hope for their relationship . . .

Not to mention it was nice to see that the advice he had received first from Devon and then the saleswoman was correct. That if he could picture the ring on Sarah's hand, it was the right ring. Because the ring did look perfect on her hand.

Giving in to the urge he had been resisting since he woke up and began cataloging the traits of Sarah's hand, Chuck reached out and gently stroked her fingers. Sarah's eyes immediately opened and he yanked his hand back. "Sorry! Did I wake you up?" he asked quietly, leaning in close to her.

Sarah shook her head, reaching her hand up to stroke his hair. "No . . . I've been awake for a while."

"So you were faking it," he said, kissing her lightly and smiling against her lips.

"I wouldn't go that far," Sarah said, nuzzling him a little. "I was just enjoying the feeling of being in bed with you."

Propping his head up on one hand, Chuck stroked her side. "Missed me that much, huh?" He couldn't help smiling widely at her.

Her answering smile was just as wide and happy as his felt. "Mmm," she said, pushing some hair out of her face. Then, to his surprise and pleasure, Sarah lowered her hand and looked at her ring. Her smile faded a little, growing softer and more content.

"You know," Chuck said, pitching his voice low, "Devon told me once that the perfect engagement ring was one that you could imagine on your girlfriend's finger, after she said yes."

Sarah lifted her eyes to his. They looked like the blue of the sky in May. "Is that so?"

Chuck nodded, feeling unable to speak.

"Hmm," Sarah said, looking at her ring again. It was as if the moment lasted forever, Chuck feeling like he was on tenterhooks. Then Sarah looked at him and smiled slowly. "Another awesome piece of advice from Captain Awesome."

"You really do like it?" Chuck asked.

"Yes," Sarah said, giggling a little. "It's perfect."

He couldn't help grinning at her giggle and her words. "I was just thinking that about your hand."

"What, that it's perfect?" Sarah asked in disbelief. When Chuck nodded, she laughed softly and shook her head. "It's not perfect. You are a sap, Bartowski."

"Yep," Chuck said, taking her hand and lightly kissing her knuckles. "Your sap, forever."

It was true: he was hers. They might not be married yet-he had no idea when the actual ceremony might happen, with the way their lives were. But long before it was official in the eyes of the law, Chuck knew he belonged to her.

"I can't believe you think my hand is perfect," Sarah said, her soft voice and affectionate tone belying the teasing nature of her words. "Of all the parts of me, that's what you like best?"

"Hey, many, many parts of you are perfect," Chuck said, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. "And I never said I liked your hand best."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "So what part of me do you like best?"

He groaned. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yep," Sarah said, popping the P on her answer.

Shifting onto his back, Chuck wrapped his arms around Sarah, who obligingly draped herself over him. "I think I should only have to answer that if you have to say what your favorite part of me is."

"Hmmm," Sarah said, pursing her lips in really, the cutest manner ever. "I'll allow it."

"Thank you," Chuck said with a laugh, giving her a quick kiss. "Then . . . your eyes."

At his reply, Sarah got a small, delighted smile on her face. "Really?"

"Yeah," Chuck said, stroking her hair. "Your eyes. Because for the longest time, that was how I knew we could have something between us, someday. You're an amazing spy, Sarah, with the best poker face I've ever seen. But your eyes gave you away." He frowned. "And God, that sounds cheesy, but it really is true."

"And it's very sweet," Sarah said, tracing small circles on his chest. "And very true." She gazed at him for a long moment, her lips quirked in a way Chuck didn't necessarily understand. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she was thinking, but instead, he just smiled at her.

After a moment, Sarah shook herself out of her thoughts and grinned at him. "And as for you . . ." She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his neck, in that spot that made his eyes automatically close. Then she lightly licked the hollow of his throat, another thing she did that he loved.

"If you think you can seduce me to get out of answering-well, it's working," he gasped, as Sarah began kissing down his chest.

She looked up at him and grinned. "But I am answering, Chuck. You just have to pay attention." She gave him a wink and resumed kissing him all over and . . . and really, a nonverbal answer was acceptable, he thought as his fiancée kept touching him with the perfect hand that was wearing his engagement ring.

5. **Vs. the First Bank of Evil**

Leaning in towards the mirror, Sarah applied some mascara, watching as her lashes grew longer, darker and thicker. She gave herself a lopsided smile. With her plans for tonight, her makeup look was a bit more dramatic than normal, yet there was still less of it. Since she had every intention of dancing a lot tonight, she didn't want to waste her time or the makeup if she was just going to sweat it all off.

She rubbed her finger against her engagement ring, enjoying its weight on her hand. When they were working, she usually didn't wear it-but once a mission was over, she tried to get the ring back on as soon as she could. And tonight, for a night out in Macau with her fiancé, she wanted to have her ring on.

Her very handsome, very willing fiancé. Because as much as she loved Chuck, she knew he had agreed to do dinner and dancing with her tonight because she had asked him. Not because he actually liked dancing that much. It was a shame, really: with how much he loved music, she had thought that once he got past his awkwardness and his self-consciousness, he would enjoy dancing.

But that wasn't the case. He had said that the music he liked wasn't exactly dancing music, which Sarah admitted was true. But unless he was using the Intersect, there was always something a little herky-jerky about Chuck's dancing-at least when it came to clubbing. But her favorite club in the whole world was in Macau, a place that she wanted to share with Chuck, so she had worked up her courage and asked if he would go with her.

Setting down her mascara and adjusting her hair a little, Sarah took a deep breath. Tonight was going to be good, she hoped. They had completed their mission satisfactorily, gaining access to the First Bank of Macau and preserving the fragile relationship between the CIA and Vivian MacArthur-or with Vivian Volkoff; Sarah wasn't sure if the woman had claimed her father's name as her own. The wedding plans were moving along now that she had found a dress, one that Ellie was already scouring dress boutiques for back in LA. And tonight, she would get to spend time with Chuck, just the two of them.

For a moment, Sarah caught her reflection and wondered just how she had become the woman in the mirror. The woman with the sparkling diamond ring on her finger, with the happy smile and the eyes full of hope and enthusiasm and optimism. For so much of her life, there was no reason to hope or dream, because those things didn't keep you safe. They made you vulnerable. But now . . . now she knew that safe wasn't happy.

Happy was seeing your fiancé beam at you when you said putting on a wedding dress made you feel like a princess.

Holding back a small giggle, Sarah opened the door of the bathroom and stepped out, enjoying the feel of her skirt swishing against her legs. "Chuck? Are you ready-oh."

Since she was going to spring the idea of dinner and dancing on him, Sarah had thought ahead to pack a change of clothes for Chuck as well as for herself. Just a new button-down shirt to wear with his suit and a more comfortable pair of shoes. But instead of staying in his suit, Chuck had changed into a pair of jeans and the button-down, with his Chucks on his feet.

She didn't know he had jeans and Chucks with him. And if she had known, she would have gotten him out of his suit sooner. Because Chuck Bartowski looked good in jeans. Unfairly good. Something about his long legs and lean frame made denim look better than it did on other men. Combined with a French blue shirt that he had rolled the sleeves halfway up his arms, it was a pretty devastating look.

It was close to how he had looked on their real first date, a date she hadn't intended to end as it did. Because back then, she thought she was going to be leaving him . . . and she had every plan of taking him back to her hotel room that night.

Just like she was planning for tonight.

"Hey!" Chuck said, smiling at her. "Wow."

Sarah blinked. "Huh?"

"You look amazing," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Everyone will be looking at you instead of the spaz dancing next to you."

How did he not see his appeal? Or, actually, why did he not want to admit that anyone could find him attractive?

Maybe . . . maybe there was a way to fix both of the issues she had been thinking about: Chuck's lack of comfort with his dancing and his amused put-downs of himself. Perhaps it was just a matter of giving him a bit of confidence.

Reaching out, Sarah took Chuck's wrists and pulled him in towards her. "See, I was just thinking that you look amazing, too."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really? I mean-I'm just in jeans."

"Yes, but you look good in jeans," Sarah said, pulling his arms around her waist. "Very good. Very handsome."

She could see his ears turning red, but he had a lopsided smile on his face. "You don't have to butter me up, you know. I already agreed to go dancing."

"Are you saying I'd tell you something that isn't true in order to get what I wanted?" Sarah asked, locking her eyes on his.

Chuck opened his mouth, then closed it. Sarah had to bite her lip to hold back her laughter, because they both knew he had fallen into her trap. Pecking his lips, Sarah smiled at him. "I'm not buttering you up. I'm just telling you what I think. And I think you look very good tonight, and I'm looking forward to going out with you tonight."

For a moment, he gazed at her, with a look in his soft brown eyes that made Sarah feel so incredibly powerful. Because there was a touch of confidence in his gaze that wasn't normally there . . . a confidence that she had given him. And knowing that she could do that, knowing that she could make him feel strong and capable and just as powerful, it made her feel so happy and so in love with him.

And so ready to be married to Chuck.

6. **Vs. the Cliffhanger**

Who said that the groom had to face forward and not look back at his bride as she walked down the aisle? Chuck didn't know. He hoped it wasn't some kind of rule that if broken meant bad luck for the marriage, because there was no way he wasn't going to watch Sarah approach him. It had been so hard to not see her this morning, after coming so close to losing her forever . . .

_Easy there, Bartowski_, a mental voice that sounded like a strange mix of Bryce and Casey. _Sarah's fine. She's got Casey watching her like a hawk, not to mention Ellie. And if that's not enough to calm you down, the wedding's going to start any second now_.

Chuck took a few slow, deep breaths. His mental voice was right. He just had a little longer to wait. And as soon as the music started, he would turn around and see Sarah, in her wedding dress, looking whole and beautiful, even if she might be a bit pale and wan. He had suggested that they cancel the wedding and reception and get married later, once she had recovered more, but Sarah had refused. More than refused: she had grabbed the back of his head, pulled his face in close to hers, and said, with a vehemence that thrilled him, "We are _not_ cancelling our wedding."

Of course, he was going to make sure she didn't overexert herself during the reception. And their romantic, intimate honeymoon in Hawaii was definitely going to be a time for her to recover-no rock climbing or ten-mile hikes, as she had joked when they had been planning their trip. It was always hard to convince Sarah to take things slow and relax.

But it didn't matter how hard it was. He was going to make his new wife take it easy.

He couldn't help smiling a little, even as he shuffled his feet. When were they going to get started?

"Okay there, bro?" Devon asked, slapping Chuck on the back. With Morgan as the officiant and best man Casey watching over Sarah, Devon had been standing by Chuck's side during the last few minutes.

"Yeah . . . just ready to start," Chuck said, smiling at Devon.

"Know just what you mean, Chuckster," Devon said, his voice full of good cheer. Because this was Captain Awesome, Chuck knew that Devon didn't hold any lingering anger over Jeffster's performance at his first attempt to marry Ellie.

Just as he was opening his mouth to thank Devon, the door at the end of the aisle opened. The sight of Casey stepping into the church and hurrying down the aisle sent Chuck's heart into his throat.

"Go time, John?" Devon asked, looking excited.

Casey nodded. "Go time." He looked at Chuck, his eyes narrowed. "You okay?"

Chuck jerked his head up and down in the best imitation of a nod that he could give right now. This was it. In just a minute, Sarah would be walking towards him, Morgan would appear, and the wedding would begin. The event that he had been planning since he was nine years old, when he was young and nerdy and so sure that one day, he'd find a girl who would love him enough to want to spend the rest of her life with him.

Over the years, with all the knocks and blows his heart had taken, a sane man would have given up on the dream. But Chuck wasn't sane, so he never had. He had always kept hoping that he'd get to be part of a love story. Whether it was epic and dramatic or normal and only interesting to him and the love of his life, he didn't care. He just wanted to find the woman of his dreams.

And he had. And soon, she would be his wife.

"Bartowski!"

He jumped, his eyes locking on Casey's.

"Don't go freakin' out," Casey said with a grunt. "Else Walker's gonna freak when she sees you 'cause she'll know, and you don't want that."

"Right, right," Chuck said, fidgeting a bit with his suit. "No freaking out."

Casey grunted again and took up his position. And God, the music was starting!

There was the rustle as everyone in the church stood up and turned. Chuck took a deep breath as he saw Morgan walk out of the office where he had been waiting. HIs best friend in the world gave Chuck a wide, supportive smile and a thumbs-up, and Chuck breathed out, feeling a sense of calm descend over him.

This was it. The moment he had been waiting so long to reach. So Chuck Bartowski slowly turned around to watch the beginning of the rest of his life.

And as far as beginnings went, it was pretty much perfect. Because of the woman coming towards him, a soft, wide smile on her face and a fluffy white dress clothing her.

His future. His bride. His Sarah.

XXX

Thirty-six hours ago, Sarah Walker had been trying to face her imminent death. It wasn't the first time she thought she might die, realizing that a mission had gone south and feeling that tingle on the back of her neck.

But in all those times before, she hadn't had someone she was worried about leaving behind. Not like now. And that was what made it so hard to accept she was about to die. Because she was so scared and worried about what was going to happen to Chuck.

Would this be the breaking point for him? Was this what would turn him into the kind of spy she never wanted him to become? What if he went down the same path as Daniel Shaw?

Sarah turned her head, looking at Chuck as he slept beside her in his first-class seat. Pretty much as soon as the plane had pushed away from the gate, the adrenaline rush of the last day and a half had evaporated and he had fallen asleep. Leaving Sarah to cope with her own overwhelmed feelings. Taking stock of how she had nearly not gotten to have this moment.

But looking at her husband made her feel like there was nothing to worry about.

Smiling softly, Sarah took Chuck's hand and laced her fingers through his, getting used to how his wedding ring felt on his finger. The rings they had picked out together, with a special feature thanks to Casey. Most couples got their wedding rings engraved: they got their rings modified to conceal a miniature lock pick.

"With how many times Bartowski gets nabbed, just bein' practical," Casey had said with a grunt when she had asked him about it. "And you'd go after him and get caught, too, so you both need the picks."

As she rubbed her thumb against Chuck's ring, she knew Casey was right. Where Chuck went, she went, and vice versa. They were a matched set now. And it was all she wanted: after years of wondering what it would be like to have a family and friends and a life, she had it.

Thirty-six hours ago, she thought she was going to die when she was on the verge of getting everything she wanted. But thanks to Chuck, that hadn't happened. Now she was married to the man she was so in love with, they were on their way to their honeymoon, and they had their whole future ahead of them.

The idea that Chuck could become like Shaw was horrifying enough to shake all of Sarah's foundations. But she knew it was a fear that wouldn't ever come true. He was different. He had people like Ellie and Morgan. And there was Casey, too, and Chuck's own moral compass. If anything happened to her, he would find a way to carry on.

With a deep breath, Sarah pushed aside all those thoughts and focused on the here and now. On the happiness and joy and contentment that she felt because she was with her husband. She lifted up the arm rest so she could move closer to Chuck. His head flopped down onto her shoulder and then he snorted, lifting his head and blinking at her.

"Hi," she said softly. "Go back to sleep, baby."

Chuck shifted and rubbed a hand over his face. "No, no, I wanna take care of you."

She couldn't help smiling at him. "I think the whole coming to the rescue and saving my life thing was you taking care of me."

His ears went red and he ducked his head. "I just want you to be okay."

"Hey," she said, squeezing his hand. "I am okay. We're married, we're on our way to Hawaii for two weeks together . . . do you know this is going to be the longest vacation I've ever taken?"

"Really?" he said, lifting his eyes to hers and smiling a little.

"Really."

Chuck's smile widened and he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Lots of sleeping in . . . lots of room service . . ."

"Trying to recreate our train trip?" she asked impishly.

To her delight, Chuck didn't go red. Instead, he gave her a measuring look, his lips slightly pursed. It was a look that usually meant very good things were going to happen to her and soon, and Sarah felt her heart flutter. And then Chuck grinned and leaned in to kiss her cheek, which made her melt.

"I like where your mind is going, Mrs. Bartowski," Chuck said softly into her ear.

"Do you, Mr. Bartowski?" she asked, gazing up at him.

He nodded slowly, then sighed. "Too bad we've got another three hours on this plane."

Sarah nodded, giving Chuck a lopsided smile. She understood what he wasn't saying: neither of them were eager to join the Mile High Club on a commercial flight. But maybe someday . . .

There was so much ahead of them. They weren't CIA agents anymore, they had all the assets of Alexei Volkoff . . . things were changing for both of them. But the most exciting change was being married. Being together forever.

"You do take care of me, you know," Sarah said softly. "Always. Since the day we met."

Chuck looked a bit skeptical. "All I did was fix your phone, which wasn't really your phone."

"No, Chuck," she said, sitting up and pinning him with her eyes. "It's not about what you do. It's about who you are, how you make me feel. How you make me better and happier and-I'm probably not explaining this very well at all . . ."

What she wouldn't give right now to have his gift for words. To know the exact right thing to say at the exact right moment. To be able to make him see how important he was to her. More than important-necessary. Vital. Like air.

"I-I think you're explaining it perfectly," Chuck said, his voice sounding a bit choked. And when Sarah looked into his eyes, she knew it didn't matter if she couldn't put it in words.

Because he knew, just like she knew. They were perfect together, and today was the first day of the rest of their lives.

End, Chapter 4


	5. Season 5

**Real Love 5/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: Oh, season 5. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . because it was the end of Chuck the show. But it's not the end of this story, as you will see when you reach the end. I hope you enjoy this season's collection of moments and that you'll look forward to the next two chapters! And if you do enjoy what happens in this chapter, perhaps you'll leave a review? Thanks!

XXX

**1. Vs. the Zoom**

This was when being a nerd paid off, Chuck thought with a grin as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Secretly searching for Sarah's dream house would have been even more difficult if he didn't have the skills to write computer code. The program he had written pulled listings from a variety of real estate websites and sorted them based on keywords and image descriptions, allowing him to filter the results easily and neatly.

At least Operation Red Door would be a lot easier than all the previous ops. Because now he knew exactly what Sarah wanted. And yeah, perhaps he should have been more upfront with her to start, but he knew his wife.

_His wife_. God, he loved those words. And even more than the words themselves, he loved that when he said or thought "his wife," he was talking about Sarah. Sarah Walker Bartowski, beauty and brains and everything he could want in the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Shaking his head, Chuck finished inputting the new search parameters into his program and hit enter. While the program did its thing, he got up and went to get some coffee.

So yeah, telling Sarah from the start that he wanted to find a house for them, her dream house, was something he should have considered. But if he had just come out and said they should get a house, he suspected that Sarah would have one of those quiet, internal freak-outs that she tended to have. Even after being together for over two years and now married, Sarah still needed lots of time to adjust to changes and new commitments.

He understood. Not everyone was like him, ready and raring to have the house and the dog and the 2.5 kids. And there was no doubt in his mind that Sarah loved him, that she wanted the same things he wanted. She just wasn't in as much of a hurry as he was. It took her a bit more time to realize what she wanted and then to process that realization. And he was starting to appreciate that outlook, of going at their own speed.

And honestly, if he had told her, she wouldn't have had to seduce the truth out of him. And Chuck Bartowski was not above admitting that he really, really liked having his wife seduce him.

Sipping his coffee and smiling, Chuck walked back over to his computer and sat down, checking on the program's progress. It still needed some more time, of course, but everything seemed to be running smoothly.

He swiveled back and forth in his chair as he let himself get lost in thought. His personal life was going so well right now that it mitigated some of the professional stings he had suffered lately. Between the struggle of getting Carmichael Industries off the ground, even with having nearly a billion dollars to work with, and dealing with his best friend having the Intersect instead of him . . .

Chuck sighed. He was starting to get a better feeling for how difficult Sarah and Casey's job had been, back when they were his handlers. Because juggling the need to use the Intersect in the best manner while keeping Morgan on-task and focused . . . it was tough. Really, really tough. He had thought it would be easy-he had actually been really excited for Morgan to be a bigger part of the spy life. Because Chuck knew Morgan was interested in it and he had never doubted his best friend's loyalty.

Until now. Because . . . there were moments when Morgan had been acting a bit douchey. And kinda strange. And Chuck didn't really understand what was going on, but he was starting to think he might need to have a talk with Morgan.

The beeping of his computer interrupted Chuck's thoughts and drew him back to something a lot more pleasant. The search program had a list of possible dream homes for him to consider. Putting down his coffee, Chuck dove into the listings.

With Sarah's description as his touchstone, it didn't take too long for him to find it. The perfect house-the house of Sarah's dreams. It even had a picket fence already!

He felt his heart beat faster as he looked through the photos and read the description. A nice kitchen . . . a big backyard with some nice trees . . . three bedrooms and two and a half baths . . . in a good location, not too far from work and from Ellie and Devon . . .

It was perfect. Completely and totally perfect. And he couldn't wait to show it to Sarah.

Digging in his pocket for his phone, he had gotten half of the realtor's phone number typed in when Casey clomped in. "Look alive, Bartowski-got the surveillance on Bale's place mapped out yet?"

Chuck did his best to hold back the groan that wanted to come out. But work had to come first. "Okay, Casey-one minute."

Quickly grabbing a link to the online listing for the house and dropping it into an email to himself, Chuck resolved to call the listing agent as soon as possible. He didn't want to miss out on giving Sarah her dream house. The house they could grow into, the house where they might bring their first child home someday. The house where all their dreams could come true.

2. **Vs. the Hack-off**

If they weren't in the middle of a mission and if Gertrude Verbanski wasn't listening on comms, Sarah would laugh at Chuck's reaction to her taking her clothes off. Because it certainly wasn't the first time he had seen her do that. Let alone the first time she had gotten naked outside with him.

Although it had taken a lot of mai tais and being on a private, secluded beach in Hawaii during their honeymoon to get Chuck to go along with public nudity the first time.

Unlike Chuck, Sarah didn't feel too flustered by stripping off her fatigues. After years in the CIA, she had long gotten past any hang-ups about nakedness. If you were on a mission and you needed to quickly change, you did it without worrying about anyone looking. And modesty went out the window pretty quickly when bullets were flying and you lost your bikini top during your escape.

Chuck had never gotten that experience, really. Well, he had, during that mission after he got the Intersect 2.0 and before they got together. The timing was unfortunate, since Sarah hadn't been able to take advantage of the opportunity to check him out back then, given the strained relations between them. Besides, he had sounded so frazzled on comms about losing his towel that Sarah had tried to give him some privacy and not look at what the video camera in his glasses was transmitting, and she had left the van when she knew he was on his way back, so he could get dressed and recover some of his dignity.

But even then, when he mostly relied on the Intersect, he didn't have much to worry about. Being tall and naturally slender, Chuck already looked pretty good, in her opinion. Once he actually started working out, the last bit of fat melted away to reveal the lean muscles she always felt whenever the cover had required them to be pressed up against each other.

And now . . . now, she had a hot, nerdy husband. One who used fitness apps that gave him prizes when he worked out. He joked that was the only way to make him want to lift weights, but Sarah knew it was more than that. She knew that he wanted to be strong enough to participate in missions that would grow their company, not to mention protecting her and Casey and Morgan when they were in the field. And she thought he liked the change in his appearance.

She certainly did. To the point that she was having a hard time not letting her eyes wander as he slowly shucked off his clothes. Because . . . yes, this was work, and yes, her main focus was on finding Colin Davis and retrieving the Omen virus. Carmichael Industries needed to pull off this assignment and not just because of Verbanski's snipes. They needed a win.

But her husband was getting naked right beside her. And Sarah Bartowski was only human.

And it wasn't like her husband had any reason to be embarrassed about being naked, Sarah thought to herself. None whatsoever, in her book.

Biting her lip, Sarah looked down. She was human . . . and she had changed a lot from the CIA agent she used to be. This wasn't a new revelation to her, but it kept surprising her in different ways. Getting these reminders of how knowing Chuck, falling in love with him, had changed her.

The old Sarah wouldn't be checking out the naked agent she was working with-she would be focusing on the job while trying not to feel vulnerable about her lack of clothing. Trying not to think about how little she trusted the other agent.

Trust or vulnerability wasn't a problem with Chuck. Far from it. She trusted him with everything, trusted him more than anyone else in the world. So she knew she didn't have to worry about leers or unwanted advances. No, what she had to worry about was keeping Chuck from freaking out.

"Are we sure this is the only way?" Chuck hissed quietly as he finished untying his boots and stepped out of them.

Sarah nodded. "We'll get in, find Davis, and then get out with him and the virus." She gave Chuck an encouraging smile. "It's going to be okay, Chuck. Just remember our honeymoon. That night on the beach when it was just the two of us."

Chuck paused as he slid his pants down, then gave her a little smile. "Trying to flatter my ego?"

Shrugging her shoulders-partly because it was an accurate reflection of her feelings and partly because she knew what it would do to her bare breasts-Sarah grinned back. "Maybe."

As she hoped, after a quick, obvious look at her breasts, Chuck moved with more confidence while he finished getting undressed. He took a deep breath and looked at her with a tiny, sheepish smile. "This is the first time during this mission I'm glad Casey's not here."

Letting out a soft laugh, Sarah nodded. "Me, too." She reached out and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "Ready?"

He squeezed her hand back. "Ready."

She let go of his hand and took a deep breath as they stepped forward as one. He was ready-they both were.

So even though the idea of patting him on the ass crossed her mind, Sarah held it back and told herself it could wait until later.

3. **Vs. the Santa Suit**

Right about now, Chuck was wishing Sarah had shown him the trick she had with omelets. Because scrambled eggs just didn't feel good enough for her. Not for a woman who had gone through what Sarah had experienced in the last twenty-four hours. Attacked by her enemy, nearly frozen to death, forced to watch her husband battle said enemy . . .

And then he had spent more time with Ellie, and rushing around for the Christmas party last night, instead of taking care of Sarah.

Chuck sighed, looking down at the skillet of cooking eggs. In the rush of last night, he hadn't realized how his behavior might look to Sarah. Not until this morning, when he woke up and went over everything that happened and it had hit him. That he hadn't put Sarah first.

Oh, he had made sure she was all right. Made sure she always had a jacket or a blanket wrapped around herself, brought her drinks and kept asking if she was okay. But that wasn't enough. Not for his wife, not for the woman he loved more than anyone else, not for the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And he was pretty sure Sarah would agree with him, since she had spent an hour of the party running some errand by herself, without telling him first.

So he had gotten out of bed and started making breakfast, to be served to Sarah in bed. It was a start to his plans to spoil her rotten, even if she protested and told him she didn't need all this.

She did.

Dishing up the eggs onto two plates, Chuck added the turkey sausage and the bagels to each plate. The bowl of slightly-sad-looking fruit salad, made with the fruit they had in the fridge, went beside the plates on the tray. Glasses of orange juice and two mugs of coffee rounded out their breakfast.

He hefted up the tray and walked slowly down the hall. When he reached the bedroom door, he frowned when he saw it was fully closed. Had he done that? Or had Sarah woken up and wanted to keep him out?

The fruit salad bowl clicked loudly against the coffee mugs and some orange juice slopped over the edge of the glasses as he tried to manipulate one hand free so he could knock on the door. But somehow, he didn't drop the tray. He lightly tapped on the door. "Sarah, baby?"

After a moment of silence, Chuck eased the door open to see Sarah dressed in a sports bra and tight-fitting capris. He blinked. "Sarah?"

She gave him a tight smile. "Hi. Just going for my run."

What? That-that was not a good idea. Not after what she just went through! Going through hypothermia, it must have put some strain on Sarah's heart and now, a day later, going for a run when she was completely incapable of taking it easy during a workout . . .

"But-but-breakfast!" he spluttered, gesturing to the tray in his hand.

"That's sweet of you," Sarah said, glancing at the tray as she moved around him. "Maybe later."

"Sarah," Chuck said, putting down the tray and following her towards the front door, "you can't do this."

He could see the tension in her frame, even from twelve feet away. "I'm fine, Chuck," she said, not really looking at him.

Giving thanks for his long legs, Chuck picked up his pace and reached out to gently take Sarah's upper arms and turn her around. "Sarah, I'm sorry," he said, facing her. "I didn't do enough last night to take care of you-I got caught up in so many other things once I knew you were okay, because the thought that I might lose you was just so-"

God, he felt like such a jerk. He didn't know why he had acted like he had. It wasn't like him at all. If he had gotten clingy and wrapped her in bubble wrap, that'd be more normal. But no, he had pulled away, made her think she had to act like everything was fine, that yesterday was no different from any other day.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he repeated, cupping her face in his hands. "I let you down, and that's the last thing I meant to do, the last thing I ever want to do. I screwed up and I want to make it up to you."

She sighed softly, her shoulders slumping a little. "I . . . I was confused," she admitted softly, a catch in her voice. "I mean, the party last night was nice, but . . ."

Chuck nodded. "But it wasn't what you needed right then. I just . . . I don't know. I guess I wanted to pretend that everything with Shaw hadn't happened at all. That he had never come back, never come so close to hurting you more than even you could stand."

Stepping forward, Sarah leaned in against him, sliding her arms around his waist. "Me, too," she whispered against his chest.

His arms wrapped around her tightly. "I'm here, baby," he said. "I'm not going anywhere. And whatever you want, you've got."

"You. That's all I want. All I need."

Hearing Sarah say that, putting it in such simple terms . . . it made Chuck feel incredibly grateful. That Shaw hadn't succeeded, that his wife was such an amazing woman, that he had a second chance.

"I am so lucky to have you," Chuck said softly, kissing the top of her head. "To have you forgive me."

To his surprise, Sarah pulled back and looked up at him. Her lips quirked in a tiny smile. "Who said I've forgiven you yet? I won't be able to do that until after breakfast at least."

Letting out a snort of laughter, Chuck wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Well, Mrs. Bartowski, let's go see if the breakfast I slaved over is still edible."

"You slaved over it? Seriously?" Sarah asked, walking with him back towards their bedroom.

"I sure did," he said, smiling at her and feeling better than he had since he had ended his video call with Sarah thirty-six hours earlier.

They were going to be okay. It wasn't that he doubted they would work this out eventually, but it had still been nerve-wracking. But it was also a good lesson for him: to never become complacent about their love. Because if that happened . . . they were sunk.

And he couldn't lose Sarah.

4. **Vs. the Baby**

Up until this moment, Sarah wouldn't say she believed women had a biological clock. Of course, all humans had natural rhythms that dictated whether they were morning or night people, if they got cranky or sleepy when they were hungry, things like that. But the concept that women had some switch that could be flipped and suddenly they would want a baby . . . that didn't make any sense to her.

But watching Chuck with Molly, the little girl that was the closest thing Sarah had to a sister, it was almost like she could hear a clock start ticking.

She rubbed her thumb against her engagement and wedding rings as she stood by the front door, watching her husband. When she first met Chuck, she had gotten an immediate feeling that someday, he would be a good father. He was patient and full of love, two traits that she thought a father should have. And even though Sarah didn't have a lot of experience with good fathers, let alone ever really spent any time thinking about the topic, she just knew that Chuck would be good at raising a child.

It had taken a lot longer for her to think about whether she would be a good mother. For so long, her mind had avoiding thinking about it, because why think about what you would never have? She was a spy-spies didn't have families. Therefore, she wouldn't have a family. Even though seeing Chuck with the family he had created around himself became more and more enticing, Sarah had still thought that kind of life wasn't for her.

And then they got together and Sarah started to discover just how wrong she was. And that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe . . . she could be someone's mother.

They hadn't talked about children. Not explicitly. But Sarah knew Chuck wanted them. His wedding vows alone would have tipped her off to that, she thought with a small smile.

A soft touch on her shoulder alerted Sarah to the presence of her mother. "I had to come over and ask you about that smile," Emma said quietly, giving Sarah a gentle smile of her own.

"I was just thinking about our wedding," Sarah said, hoping that it wouldn't hurt her mother too much that she hadn't been able to attend. "About Chuck's wedding vows. He said he pictured our children like little superheroes, with capes."

Emma laughed. "That's very sweet."

"And very Chuck," Sarah said, smiling back at Emma and feeling grateful that she hadn't thought it was strange or immature of Chuck.

The two women stood together quietly for a moment, taking in the bustle of activity in front of them: Chuck and Molly playing, Casey talking with Alex and Morgan, Ellie and Devon splitting their time between the kitchen and cooing over Clara.

She felt safe. Surrounded by the people who cared about her. Once upon a time, she would have seen almost all of these people as those to be protected. And she still felt that way. But she knew that they felt the same way about her. Only Casey and Chuck would be able to deal with a terrorist coming after her . . . but Ellie could help with being a new wife, and Morgan was her go-to source for nerdy explanations, and Alex was a great shopping partner.

That was what family was, Sarah had realized. And this group of people would gather again, many times over the years. And maybe someday, she'd be holding a baby in her arms. A baby that had Chuck's curly hair and her eyes, a baby who was smart and brave and amazing.

Emma lightly rubbed Sarah's shoulder. "So I guess you're starting to think about children?"

"We . . . we haven't really talked about it lately," Sarah said softly. "But I know that Chuck would love that."

"And what about you?" Emma asked, her direct, simple question making Sarah duck her head a little.

"I-yes." Sarah met her mother's eyes. "The more I think about it, the more I like the idea."

The bright smile on Emma's face prompted an answering smile from Sarah. "I was actually just imagining what that baby might look like," Sarah admitted, turning to look at Emma.

"I've been thinking about that since I met Chuck," Emma said with a grin. "Because you're a very attractive couple. I bet your baby would be a heartbreaker."

Sarah let out a soft laugh, almost a giggle. Because it was so silly, talking to her mother about what a Sarah-and-Chuck baby might look like.

Silly and strange and wonderful. Not that different from her family. So whenever she did have a child with Chuck, Sarah knew that baby would fit right in.

And that was the most wonderful feeling of all, Sarah thought as her gaze was once again drawn to her husband.

5. **Vs. the Goodbye**

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Chuck told himself that this wasn't a fool's errand. He would find Sarah and speak his piece and then he could walk away. Let her go and then find a way to cope with having the love of his life, the woman he loved most, _his wife_ walk away.

He had to do this. After all the time he spent pushing her to reveal her feelings, chasing after her to make her admit what she wanted . . . he had to let Sarah make her own choices. Both of their worlds had been destroyed, but Sarah had so much more to deal with than he did. So much more to figure out. If she needed to be alone to put her world back together, to chose what she wanted, he couldn't stand in her way.

Not if he loved her as much as he always said he did.

Unable to help himself, Chuck looked at the wedding ring on his finger. The ring that he'd never take off, no matter what Sarah decided.

With a sigh, Chuck turned the wheel, exiting the freeway and moving to the local streets in Malibu. From the start, when he decided to look for Sarah, he had a suspicion that she hadn't left California yet. That she wasn't far away. When he was proven right, thanks to no activity on her passport and a hit on one of her credit cards at a local hotel, he had felt a glimmer of hope that he quickly tamped down.

All he was going to do was talk to her. Keep the conversation as short and as pain-free as possible. At least, pain-free for Sarah. And he would not, under any circumstances, bring up Morgan's cockamamie theory.

When his best friend had suggested "one magical kiss," Chuck had to admit he considered it. Why wouldn't he? Among all the other straws he had grasped ever since those bullet train cars had been disconnected, the idea that a kiss could restore Sarah's memories wasn't the craziest one he'd contemplated. But that didn't make it any less crazy-or any more likely to work.

Because the Sarah he had interacted with while tracking down Quinn, the Sarah who was set back to a point five years ago . . . she was different. Even from the woman she had been the moment she walked up to the Nerd Herd desk for the first time. If he thought Sarah's walls had been strong and difficult to scale when they first met, now they seemed as unshakable as the Rock of Gibraltar.

This version of Sarah didn't seem very receptive to magic or fairy-tale kisses. And Chuck understood that, and out of all the things he wished were different right now, that came pretty low on the list. But still . . .

Taking a deep breath, Chuck pushed aside the what-ifs and focused. He just had to get to the beach. To see if his hunch was right about where Sarah was. Then he could talk to her and help her see that she didn't owe him anything. This was the last time he would track her down and from here on out, she was free to go anywhere, be anything. To do whatever she needed in order to be happy. Because that was all he wanted for her: happiness.

Chuck felt his lip and jaw tremble. Could feel the tears coming on, the tears that he had only let out once: in their former dream house, when he had begged Sarah to remember him. Begged her to understand that he would never hurt her. Because he loved her.

Almost blindly, he pulled the car into a parking lot. He barely got the car into park before he pressed his hands against his eyes, telling himself he couldn't lose it. Not yet. Walking up to Sarah with watery eyes and a flushed face, showing all the signs of his heartbreak-that wasn't what she needed.

But God, this was so hard. Harder than anything he had ever done. He thought being betrayed by Jill and Bryce at Stanford was tough. It had been a challenge to pull himself up after wasting five years, to attempt to become a real spy. Falling for Sarah and hoping and waiting for her was hard. Not to mention walking away from her in Prague only to realize how wrong he was-that was really difficult. But this? Letting his wife go?

It was a soul-crushing weight. It was something he had to do, but Chuck wasn't sure if he would ever get over this. If this pain could ever be more of an ache instead of a sharp stab into his heart and his mind.

Breathing deeply, Chuck rubbed his fingers against his eyes and looked up. He swiveled his head around, then let out a short bark of laughter. Because somehow, he had ended up in the parking lot that was right by their spot on the beach. The spot where he had spent all night after his first date with Sarah, thinking about the amazing woman he had just met and all the secrets in his head and all the secrets in hers. Wondering what was going to happen next.

And through the windshield, even at this distance and in the fading light, he could see a figure sitting on the sand. He could see Sarah's blonde hair being tossed by the breeze, could see how she wrapped her arms around herself.

He was right. Somehow, she had come here, even though she shouldn't remember it. Shouldn't know what the significance of this place was. Sarah had found their beach.

The click of the car's engine shutting off left behind a silence that was so loud and heavy, Chuck had to take a few deep breaths. And then, he stepped out of the car and started walking towards her.

Sarah Walker was the love of his life. She was the the woman of his dreams. She was his wife. And because he loved her, her needs came first. Not just when it was easy or fun, but when it was the hardest thing he would ever do.

So even though he felt like he had spent his whole life waiting to meet her, it was time to show Sarah just how much he loved her.

XXX

How could someone's kiss be new yet familiar? Sarah Walker didn't know. But as she kissed Chuck, that was what she thought. The way his lips tasted, sweet and a little salty, was a totally different, unique flavor, one that she thought she had never experienced. But then she felt his lower lip press against hers, and she knew that meant he was going to deepen the kiss by parting his lips and-and he did!

She didn't know what she was doing. She used to be so sure of herself, of the consequences her actions would have. Of what she wanted and where she was going. Now, though . . . now, she had no idea. And she didn't like it.

Or maybe she was just scared.

For the last day and a half, ever since they had defeated Quinn, Sarah had been attempting to determine what was her next step. Yet the more she tried to think, the more her thoughts got knotted and uncertain.

Should she go back to the CIA? It seemed that General Beckman, even though she was NSA, had enough pull to get her reinstated. She was still young enough to do field work, still in good enough physical shape. Thank God with being married, she hadn't gotten pregnant-

And just like that, her mind was back to the real problem. The question that she kept coming back to, the question that made her have butterflies in her stomach and clammy hands and a lump in her throat.

Chuck.

The man was so confusing. But not. Just when she felt stumped by him, some random instinct told her what he was going to do or say, and she was always right. And that confused her even more.

Sarah had meant it when she told him that she believed him. Believed that they had spent the last five years falling in love. But saying she didn't feel it . . . Sarah didn't know what possessed her to say that.

It was true, but it wasn't.

Why couldn't she just sit here and keep kissing him? This was simple. Easy. Good. But eventually, the need to breathe deeply outweighed anything else and Sarah slowly pulled away. She kept her eyes closed for a long moment, needing the time to settle herself. To brace for the hope she would see on his face, to prepare for that hope fading out of his eyes.

But for once, her instincts when it came to Chuck weren't right. Because when she slowly opened her eyes, she didn't see hope. There was something else there, something she couldn't describe, but she knew it wasn't hope.

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. "No luck, huh?"

Somehow, Sarah didn't want to answer that question. She looked down at the sand, picking up some grains and letting them trickle through her fingers. "Did it feel the same to you?"

She could feel him shift next to her. "The-the kiss, you mean?"

Keeping her head down, Sarah nodded. Asking him that was probably-no, it was completely unfair. Not with the way he had acted since he sat down next to her. Telling her he didn't want anything from her, explaining their shared history, finding a way to make even their saddest moments together seem not so sad. Kissing her when she had asked him.

And most of all, showing just how much he loved her. To ask if their kiss had been the same as before . . . what was she doing? Why couldn't she be as honest and open as he was?

_Because you're scared. _

Sarah turned her head and looked at Chuck. "You don't have to answer that. I-I'm sorry."

Chuck looked at her for a long moment. "Would it help? If I told you?"

Saying yes was the wrong thing. It was leading him on, hinting at something she didn't know that she really felt, making promises-

"Yes," she said softly.

His lips tightened for a millisecond, but maybe it was her imagination. Or maybe it was the lack of light, due to the sun having set at some point during the story, making her see things that weren't really there. But as she waited for him to speak, Sarah felt like something important was about to happen.

"Honestly? No. It . . . it felt the same," he said slowly, his voice hesitant and unsure. Almost unwilling to admit that, because of course he didn't want to say this. Didn't want to have her dredge up all these feelings, make him feel like this was some kind of horrible act of masochism on her part.

But it wasn't. She needed to know. Because her instincts were telling her that being alone right now wasn't the right choice. That she needed to make another choice. And his answer mattered to that decision.

"Chuck?"

When he turned to look at her, she actually had to take a breath. Because his face was so amazing and strong, and when she looked at him she felt like she knew everything she needed to know about him. About herself.

"I don't want to go anywhere," she whispered, unable to look away from him. "Being alone, going back to my old life and breaking up a revolution in some place like Jakarta . . . that's not what I need. I don't want you to just be someone I can call. That offer means so much, Chuck," she said quickly, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm. "But I need more than that, I think."

She could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. She could feel the tension in his arm, and she didn't know whether he was going to tackle her to the sand and kiss her passionately (again, because the kiss they had just finished still made her feel a bit breathless) or if he would get up and tell her she needed more time to decide, that she couldn't choose like this.

But why not? She hadn't been a spy for a while, but Sarah Walker still had all her instincts. And they were all telling her that this choice was the right one. Chuck was the right choice.

"If-if you don't mind going slow," she said, stumbling over her words, "I, I'd like to see what might happen. Between us."

Now his eyes were practically bugging out, and she was pretty sure he was holding his breath. It was like he was frozen like a computer-_or in couch lock_, her mind suggested nonsensically-and he needed to reboot.

Carefully, Sarah brought her lips to Chuck's. She kept the kiss light, not moving her mouth against his. Waiting for him to react, which he did after just a moment. He pulled back and stared at her. "Sarah?"

Sarah let her hands drop to the sand, but only to push herself up. She brushed the sand off her yoga pants, feeling his eyes weighing heavy on her. Then, squaring her shoulders, she held her hand out to him. "Would you like to get some dinner with me?"

And then came something unexpected. Unexpected, but so good and so hopeful and so real.

Chuck smiled at her. A big, toothy, slightly-disbelieving, hopeful smile. And the sight of that nearly made her close her eyes. From how good it felt to have this man smile at her, from the vague sense he had smiled at her like that many times before. From the sudden burst of hope created inside her chest from his smile.

Yet she didn't close her eyes. She wanted to see when he took her hand, wanted to see the moment when her life might start making sense again.

And just as she thought it might, when his fingers gently wrapped around hers, waiting for her life to start making sense was over. Because now it did.

End, Chapter 5


	6. Season 6

**Real Love 6/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: For the last two chapters of this fic, I'm imagining that the moments are coming from the sixth and seventh season of Chuck-if only we had gotten that! I created my own episode titles, which I hope you enjoy and have that same spirit as the show's episode titles. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading!

XXX

1. **Vs. the Freelancers**

Taking a breath, Sarah smoothed down her suit skirt as she stood next to Chuck, waiting for their turn to present at yet another security conference. Public speaking was definitely not her domain-at least not when she was trying to talk as herself. If her cover required it, she could act the part and be a dynamic speaker. But as Sarah, things got a little rough.

It was no wonder. It had been four months since the beach, four months since she had taken a very uncharacteristic leap of faith and asked Chuck if they could see what could happen between them. In that time, there had been some bad days: times when Chuck had made a reference to something she didn't remember, or she asked a question that hit upon one of his admittedly few sore spots. But those bad days were vastly outnumbered by the good. It made her realize just how right she had been to trust him.

And now, here they were, trying to make Carmichael Industries into a success. Just the two of them.

Due to some financial windfall that she didn't fully grasp, even after Chuck's explanations, they had enough money to live on without having to work. But she certainly couldn't stand the thought of doing nothing every day, and she thought that Chuck appreciated having something to occupy himself. Something other than worrying about her. Besides, he was still the only person in the world who could use the Intersect, so it seemed. So they were attempting to keep Carmichael Industries going, positioning it mostly as a cybersecurity and surveillance company, while consulting occasionally for General Beckman on missions that really needed the Intersect.

Perhaps it wasn't the most exciting work, but it was enough to get her heart pounding on occasion. And she knew that Chuck was quickly making a name for himself as a computer expert. Seeing how he reacted when people respected him, asked him for advice . . .

She looked at Chuck, who was reading something on his phone. Probably his part of the presentation, if she knew him. Which wasn't nearly as well as the old Sarah did-

Squeezing her eyes shut, Sarah stopped that thought in its tracks. She couldn't fall into that trap. There was no old or new Sarah: there was just her. Chuck had said that often enough that she believed he really felt that way. But she didn't always have that same level of belief.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah?" she said, quickly opening her eyes. "Is it our turn yet?"

"No-I was just worried. You look tense," he said, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket and facing her. "Is everything okay?"

Sarah managed a small smile and nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"It's gonna be great," he said, giving her a supportive smile. "We're all lean and mean now, which means less stress about dazzling everyone-we can just focus on explaining who we are as a company. At least that's how it feels for me. It's funny, isn't it, how if you're not worried about getting the job, you usually get hired?"

There was something about Chuck, his eyes bright and his words tumbling over each other, that made her want to smile. "Kind of like how you can only get a loan when you can prove you don't need the money?"

"Exactly!" Chuck said, pointing at her with his index finger. "Strangest thing in the world, but that's how it works."

She nodded and rolled her shoulders a little. As she did, she casually ran her eyes over him, planning her next move. Then she reached out and took his hand.

In the four months since the beach, as part of taking things slow, they had kept the physical contact between them limited. Oh, they touched: brushes past each other, firm and solid hugs, the occasional kiss on the cheek, things like that. Chuck was so determined to let her set the pace and Sarah wasn't interested in rushing this. Not when she had the chance to perfectly fix in her mind the important things, the things she never, ever wanted to forget again. Like how it felt to hold Chuck's hand.

The first time she had reached out and taken his hand for no reason, a few days after she had come home with him, Chuck had been surprised. She could feel it in how he tensed up a little, could hear it in the weak joke he made about his hand being clammy. But after a moment, when she had smiled at him and said that she was going to keep holding it even if his hand was a little sweaty, he had relaxed.

And now, holding his hand was one of her favorite things in the whole world.

His fingers were a bit smoother than her own, lacking the calluses from decades of knife wielding and gun firing. But he had a few rough spots of his own, picked up from his electronics tinkering and from spy work. But that didn't matter, because it was the way he held her hand: with the perfect amount of body heat and grip to make her feel safe. Safe and protected, yet still free to be herself. He didn't clutch at her as if he expected her to vanish at any moment. She thought he did that for her benefit-at least, she hoped he didn't really did have that fear and just managed to push it down.

Because the last thing she wanted to do was leave.

"Carmichael? You're up," a frazzled-looking assistant said, gesturing towards the stage.

"Thank you!" Chuck said before turning to her. "Ready?"

To let go of his hand? No, not really. But they couldn't hold hands on the stage when they were trying to present themselves as tech-hacking, intelligence-gathering badasses, so Sarah just smiled and nodded.

Chuck's smile was soft and warm, and to her delight, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before he let go of her hand. "After you," he said, gesturing for her to step through the curtains.

Just like that, Sarah knew that they were going to get at least one job out of this conference. Because she felt confident and strong. And when she felt like that, she knew she could do her part of the presentation and be good.

More than good. She could be Sarah.

2. **Vs. the Shark**

"So . . . is this guy any good?"

Morgan's voice pulled Chuck out of his coding. Looking up at his best friend, Chuck shrugged. "He's okay. But I'm better." He couldn't help grinning as he returned to his computer.

Strangely enough, the Buy More had been targeted by a hacker, someone trying to gain access to personnel files. As soon as Morgan had spotted it, he had locked down the store's Wifi connection and yanked the hard lines, prompting much wailing from the store's staff. But it had to be done while Chuck figured out what was going on.

They both suspected it had something to do with the years Chuck had spent working at the store while being the Intersect. Actually, Chuck was surprised this kind of thing hadn't happened sooner.

"This guy certainly likes to brag about himself," Morgan said, scrolling through a message board, trying to learn more about him by following his trail. "The Shark? That's his handle?" Morgan snorted. "I think someone wants to be the Piranha."

Chuck huffed out a laugh. "Thanks, buddy."

"C'mon, everyone wants to be the Piranha," Morgan said with a grin. "Because you're awesome. A legend, man."

Flexing his fingers for a moment, Chuck tried to think of something to say that wasn't too boastful or arrogant. Because . . . because with everything that had gone wrong in his life lately, at least he knew there was something he was good at.

And that was way too self-pitying, he reminded himself as he adjusted his headphones and got back to work. After all, things with Sarah were . . . they were okay. Better than okay, really. Because she was here. She hadn't run, hadn't tried to deny what they had. Sarah knew they had something, something that she wanted. And that should be enough for him.

Some days, though, it wasn't. It made him feel like a jerk to miss what they had been building together when they still had each other-they had just hit a bump in the road. He knew they were creating something new, something even stronger than what they had before. Because this time, Sarah was welcoming her feelings. It was like knowing their story gave her the freedom to ask all the questions she had never asked before, show how she felt and express what she wanted.

Given that level of trust, given how vulnerable Sarah was making herself to him . . . he could never tell her how there were moments he mourned what they used to have.

Suddenly his music got quieter and Chuck realized that Morgan had pulled one of the headphones away from his ear. "You okay, Chuck? You've just been sitting there for five minutes."

He startled, realizing Morgan was right. "Oh, sorry," Chuck said, looking at the screen. He tried to figure out where he had left off, only for Morgan to speak again.

"Seriously, dude, something's bothering you. C'mon, talk to Uncle Morgan."

"But-but I've got to-" Chuck tried to say, only for Morgan to roll his eyes.

"Like the oh-so-scary Shark can do anything to the Buy More now," Morgan said, walking over to the small mini-fridge in the corner of the cage and getting out two cans of soda. "And you're upset about something."

Really, it made no sense to protest, Chuck thought somewhat glumly as he took the offered lemon-lime soda from Morgan. Because his best friend could be like a dog with a bone when it came to getting Chuck to talk.

Popping open the can, Chuck took a sip as he gathered his thoughts. "I . . . I guess I'm just feeling a bit bummed out today."

"About Sarah?" Morgan said, leaning against the table as he swallowed some of his grape soda.

Chuck laughed bleakly and rubbed a hand over his face. "How could you tell? No, you don't have to tell me," he said before Morgan could say anything. "I know how this is gonna make me sound, but . . . but sometimes, I just-I just miss . . ."

"The old Sarah?" Morgan asked sympathetically.

"No, not that. Not really," Chuck said, meaning what he said. "No . . . I miss what we had. How we nearly had it all."

Morgan's eyebrows knit together. "I'm confused."

Chuck shifted in his chair. "We were making plans to buy a house someday. We were talking about kids. I was so close to getting what I've wanted my whole life."

"But . . . but you're still gonna have all those things," Morgan said, his voice puzzled. "Just not yet."

Folding his arms over his chest, Chuck slumped down a little. Almost without conscious thought, he said, "But I want them now."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Chuck felt a wave of embarrassment. He blinked and looked at Morgan, who was giving him such a look of scorn that it doubled the guilt and shame.

"Seriously, Chuck?" Morgan shook his head. "Wow, dude. That is not cool."

"I know, I know!" Chuck said, hiding his face in his hands. "I'm a tool of the highest order for even thinking that, let alone saying it."

"You got that right," Morgan said. "Thank God you know that, because otherwise I'd start making a list of all the evil things that could have taken over the body of Chuck Bartowski."

Scrubbing his face, Chuck tried to think clearly. "I don't like feeling this way. I don't want to feel like this. So what do I do?" he asked, dropping his hands into his lap.

"Have you talked to Sarah?" Morgan asked. "'Cause she should know how you're feeling."

"What?" Chuck yelped, rising to his feet. "Are you crazy? Do you know how much that would hurt her, telling her I keep thinking about what we used to have and how it's gonna be so much longer now until we have it?"

"How much do you think it'd hurt her to find out you're thinking like that?" Morgan said calmly, taking a sip of grape soda like they were talking about the weather. "To find out you're not talking to her about something that's bothering you?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, Chuck pressed his lips together and dropped back into his chair. Because Morgan was right. With how much Sarah had opened herself up to him, how honest she was being . . . not meeting her honesty with his own was the height of selfishness. And fear.

So many times in the past, he had been hurt when it came to Sarah. Yet he had never shied away from potential rejection or heartache until now. Yeah, it might hurt Sarah to tell her about his feelings . . . but he couldn't hold back on her like that. Not to spare her feelings and not to spare his own.

Taking a deep breath, Chuck looked up at Morgan. "I guess I know what I'm doing tonight."

"Chicken pepperoni, wine, and a long conversation with Sarah?" Morgan said, finishing off his grape soda and standing up straight.

"You know me better than I do, buddy," Chuck said, smiling weakly.

"Don't worry, Chuck," Morgan said, patting his shoulder. "Sarah's not going anywhere. No matter how honest you get."

Chuck grinned a little and started to reply, only for the sound of tapping footsteps made him turn in time to see Sarah walking up to the cage. And even with the knot of tangled emotions inside him, Chuck couldn't help feeling like everything was better with Sarah.

"Guess what!" she said, sounding excited. "The Shark's a woman!"

As Sarah opened the door of the cage and stepped inside, sharing her information with Morgan, Chuck watched and listened, all the while planning for tonight.

3. **Vs. Death and Taxes**

Right about now, after four days working in the Van Nuys office of Aztec Tax Services, Sarah was regretting ever saying she was bored by anything. Because this job was really, really boring.

General Beckman had hired Carmichael Industries to infiltrate this local, rapidly-expanding chain, one that preyed upon the Hispanic residents of Southern California with shoddily-prepared returns and a wealth of hidden fees. But worse than that, Aztec was using the information they got from tax returns to threaten poor, uneducated people into helping the real owners of Aztec: the Juarez drug cartel.

"Our first operation failed when Aztec became suspicious of our undercover agents. Their cover was blown and it was pure luck that the agents got out alive. Given that the two of you are independent contractors, and . . . and Ms. Walker's background, I thought this job might be ideal for Carmichael Industries," Beckman said, hesitating slightly as she used Sarah's maiden name.

Sarah had nearly done a double-take at hearing herself called Walker. Although she appreciated Beckman's tact, she wasn't Sarah Walker.

There wasn't much she was certain about, but deep down, she knew her name was Sarah Bartowski.

Feeling her cheeks flush, Sarah straightened up and turned her chair back towards her computer, getting back to the return she was preparing badly. The work here was mindless, especially now that she had finished with the groundwork for Chuck's part of the job. It was technical and beyond her limited tech capabilities, but it had something to do with mirroring IP addresses and making his hacking attempts look like authorized access. Like he wasn't breaking into the Juarez cartel's computers.

"No one can exist without a paper trail anymore," Chuck had said last night over dinner, as he told her what the next step was. "With credit cards, online shopping-hell, half the cartel's inner circle are massive Call of Duty fans. I could crack them with just their gamertags, but . . ." Chuck shrugged and grinned at her. "I don't think Beckman would want to explain to her bosses how we got the intelligence."

She couldn't help laughing at that. Honestly, that was one of the things about Chuck she . . . she really liked. How he could make her laugh. No matter what was going on, no matter how difficult things were, he helped her see the brighter side. It was something she could depend on.

There was a lot about Chuck that she could depend on. A lot about him that made her wonder if she was taking him for granted. Taking this second take on their relationship too easily.

What would it be like if she had met Chuck now? If she was working on this assignment and he came in, looking to get his taxes done?

Tucking a strand of her brown wig behind her ear, Sarah let her fingers begin mechanically typing as she pondered that thought. Recently, her memories of her first meeting with Chuck had become clearer, less fuzzy. She could remember walking up to the Nerd Herd desk, taking in the tall, gangly man behind the counter and thinking that getting the information about the Intersect out of him would be as easy as pie. Of course, that was before he charmed her by helping that man and his daughter.

At that moment, watching Chuck, Sarah would have reevaluated how easy this mission was going to be, if she hadn't been busy marveling at this man, so full of contradictions and so very confusing.

Now? If she looked up and saw him standing at the reception desk . . . Sarah would see a tall, fit man, slim of build and handsome. But once she got a better look at him, she would see there was something more to him. Perhaps a slight loneliness or dissatisfaction, a sense that he was searching for something he hadn't found yet.

But she knew as soon as he locked eyes with her, there would be a spark. That sense of electricity, the feeling of connection that didn't make sense yet still did.

Now her whole face felt red. She had to stop thinking about Chuck and stay focused on her undercover assignment-what was he doing here?!

Sarah blinked at the sight of her . . . at the sight of Chuck, just like in her imagination, standing at the reception desk, smiling a little at the receptionist and then turning to look around the office. He saw Sarah and gave her a small nod before moving through the maze of desks towards her.

Quickly, she pressed her lips together, trying to give them a bit of color, and running a hand over her hair before pushing her glasses up her nose more. Which was foolish, because it was just Chuck.

But there was nothing "just" about Chuck. Not with the way several of the other women in the office were giving him the eye.

"Anna Flores?" Chuck asked, stopping by Sarah's desk and holding his hand out to her. "I hope you don't mind me just showing up, but a friend of mine recommended you."

Something must have gone wrong if Chuck was taking the risk of blowing her cover like this. Because no one would recommend Aztec Tax Services to a friend. Thinking as fast as she could, Sarah rose to her feet and took his hand, trying to ignore the crackle of chemistry as she shook it. "No, not at all. Please, have a seat."

As Chuck took a seat and she did the same, Sarah worked out the small piece of paper that Chuck had slipped her. Holding it under her desk, she glanced at it, long enough to read his scribbled message. _Needed to plant equipment. Play along._

It must be something important, if he wasn't willing to wait until tonight to give her whatever he needed planted. Sarah pushed at her glasses again and screwed up the note in her hand, affecting a shy demeanor. "How can I help you, Mister . . . ?"

"Cartwright. Charles Cartwright," he said, putting on a charming smile and leaning in towards her. "But please, Charles is fine."

Someone was feeling confident. Sarah felt a smile twitch at her lips, remembering how she had flirted with him that first time. It might be fun to turn the tables on him.

So she lowered her eyes and shuffled the papers on her desk. "G-good morning, Charles. How . . . how can I help you?"

She wasn't sure if Chuck picked up on the vibe, but he certainly turned up the wattage on his smile. "Well, my taxes are a mess-to the point where I don't even know what I need to have my returns filed this year."

"I see . . ." she said, fidgeting with her glasses a little like she was embarrassed. "Well, let's start getting everything untangled."

This was a little fun, making Chuck be the one to flirt with her, Sarah thought as she turned to her computer. As she felt him take up position behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair, Sarah felt her stomach flutter a little.

Was this how he had felt? So amazed, so excited, so flattered to be marked for attention like this? Sarah didn't know, but . . . but she wondered if she could give him that feeling again. That feeling and so much more.

She wondered if she was ready to start moving fast..

4. **Vs. the Van**

"Just like old times, huh?" Chuck asked, turning in his seat in the van and smiling at Sarah.

Her smile in return was warm but distracted. Just like it had been for the last month.

Maybe he was just imagining things. Being suspicious, being paranoid. Because things with Sarah were so much better than he could have hoped, that day he went to find her on their beach in Malibu. Yes, they were going slow-yes, slower than he thought they would. But that was okay, when they had made so much progress in other ways.

They weren't trying to pick up where they left off. They were reforming their relationship, tearing off the Band-aids and spackle that they had put over past problems or secrets. And with those wounds exposed, they could heal them. Become stronger and better. This new chapter was making them into something new, into a couple that could truly face any challenge and survive it.

And that, Chuck told himself, was worth more than all the physical contact in the world.

At least, that was what he thought. But something seemed to be bothering Sarah, something that was making her be more thoughtful and a bit more reserved than her new normal. He wanted to talk to her about it, but thanks to the sudden high demand for the services of Carmichael Industries, they had been kept so busy since he had started noticing her behavior that there hadn't been a chance so far.

But tonight, they had a stakeout. Just like old times, as he had said. All these hours to fill, it was natural to pass the time with talking. He could find a way to ask Sarah what was bothering her.

It might not have anything to do with their relationship. Maybe it was more work-related. After all, Sarah was an amazing spy with the best instincts he had ever seen. Perhaps she was feeling stifled, bored with supporting his cybersecurity work when she was meant for so much more. If that was the case, Chuck wanted to know. Wanted to help her find whatever it would take to fulfill her. To make her happy.

First, though: time to set the mood. Reaching down into the duffel bag that sat between them on the floor of the van, Chuck pulled out his iPod and started hooking it up to the sound system.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, sounding slightly more interested.

"Just thought some music would be nice," Chuck said, glancing over at her.

With all his years of observing Sarah, with his experience at picking up her tells, he would have to be blind to miss the way she nibbled on her lower lip: a dead give-away that she was nervous about something.

"What? What is it?" he asked quickly, his hands stilling.

"Nothing-it's nothing. Music is fine," Sarah said.

"If you don't want music, that's fine, Sarah . . ."

She nibbled a bit more on her lower lip, then gave him a tiny, sheepish smile. "I-I was actually hoping to talk to you about something."

Chuck felt his heart leap into his throat. This was good! Sarah wanting to talk to him was a good thing. Because it was another sign of how she trusted him-really trusted him, going beyond fuzzy memories or the feeling that she should trust him because she didn't have anyone else. Because Sarah had definitely expanded her social circle in the last few months: going out with Alex frequently and working on her martial arts skills at a dojo near their offices. But if she was choosing to open up to him, it must be because she wanted to.

"No! Of course we can talk. We don't need music for that," Chuck said, taking his iPod and tossing it back into his duffel bag before turning in his seat to face her. "What's up?" he asked with a smile.

Sarah didn't reply for a moment, her eyes darting away from his to look out through the windshield of the van, then her face went slightly pink. "It's not a big deal or anything. And I know this will sound silly, but . . . but my mom asked for a picture of me, and I know I could do it myself, but-but I can't seem to figure out how, so I was wondering . . ."

That was what she wanted to talk about? Chuck felt confused, but then, Sarah had often seemed flustered or embarrassed by all those elements of pop culture or society that she hadn't noticed. And Sarah wasn't the type to snap selfies, after all.

"Sure, I can do that. Whenever you want, Sarah," he said, reaching out to give her forearm a friendly pat.

"Now?" she asked, capturing his hand before he could pull away.

Chuck blinked, his confusion growing. Sarah must have read his face, because she leaned forward a little, still holding his hand. "I just . . . I've never liked seeing myself in photos, even now. I still expect to see-well, not this," she said, gesturing to herself. "So if you don't mind doing it now, when I'm ready for it . . ."

"What do you expect to see?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb against her hand. He wasn't trying to pry-he was legitimately curious. Because Sarah had always been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the idea that she was self-conscious enough about her looks to not like to see pictures of herself . . . it was another way his eyes had been opened to the sheer amazing depth of this woman. Because he always thought it was a spy thing, the way she avoided having her picture taken. But it would seem it wasn't that.

Her eyes dropped to their hands and she shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't pretty in high school. Braces, frizzy hair, bad clothes . . . you remember."

He nodded, thinking about when they had gone to her high school reunion-and when they had talked about Sarah's memories of that mission, a few weeks ago.

"Well, the CIA, when they recruited me, they gave me this big makeover and taught me how to maintain it all, but they didn't really prepare me for how differently people would treat me afterwards," Sarah said slowly. "It messed with my head. And now, there's days when I still think I'm going to see braces when I brush my teeth or pimples when I look in the mirror. Like I said, silly."

"Hey, that's not silly," Chuck said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I think everyone feels that way sometimes."

Her raised eyebrow communicated all her skepticism about his statement, and Chuck grinned at her. "It happens to me. I still get surprised sometimes when I walk past a store window or things like that."

He left unsaid that he got that feeling even worse when hot women who were also terrorists and/or criminals hit on him during missions. Because that was not relevant and would definitely send this conversation to a place he didn't want it to go. Reaching around with his left hand, Chuck fumbled for his phone in the back right pocket of his jeans. "Okay, picture time."

If Sarah wanted pictures of herself, he would help-and he'd do everything he could to make it fun for her. To make it into something she'd enjoy, just like she had tried to do the same for him when they had needed to take cover photos.

Dropping her hand, he scrolled through the apps on his phone until he found the camera app he wanted. Once it had opened, he lifted up the phone. "Let's just take some fun shots and then we'll do the serious ones for your mom."

"Fun shots?" Sarah asked, her eyebrow still raised.

"Yeah, fun shots," Chuck said, looking at her over the top of the phone. "Stick your tongue out, make funny faces-Ellie can flip her eyelids inside out, so she did that in photos when she was a kid."

Sarah let out a soft giggle and Chuck quickly pressed his thumb against the button on his phone, taking a picture of her. As soon as the flash went off, Sarah started and narrowed her eyes at him. To his delight, though, she simply smiled a little and stuck her tongue out at him.

"That's it, that's it!" he said, grinning at her as he snapped off some quick shots.

This was fun. Seeing Sarah be goofy and silly was something that didn't happen often, so being able to immortalize it was a thrill. Soon, he'd have a bunch of new Sarah pictures for his phone. He wouldn't make any of them the wallpaper for the phone unlike before, since he didn't want to pressure her. But maybe someday . . .

No. No thinking about somedays. Tonight was more than enough.

5. **Vs. the Renewed Seduction**

Straightening up, Sarah took one last look at the living room and blew out a breath. She couldn't believe she had actually let Roan Montgomery convince her that seducing Chuck was the best way to break the news to him. To tell him that she wanted to be his wife again in every possible way, to tell him that she wasn't sure if she had never fallen out of love with him or if she had fallen in love with him again, to tell him that none of that mattered as long as they were together.

To tell him it was time to stop waiting for each other.

Just thinking about it made her heart pound with anticipation and desire. Made her feel light-headed and giddy. As soon as Chuck walked through the door, he would smell the savory, mouth-watering dinner, hear the soft music playing, see her waiting for him . . . and he would know something had changed. And then she would tell him that she loved him, and it would be the perfect moment.

She laughed to herself, hearing Roan's voice in her head as she thought that. Because that was pretty much what he had said to her when he was making his case.

"_Agent Walker," he said, refusing to drop the formality or the wrong last name, "I have seen many romances through the years. I've been part of even more. But none have what you and Charles have: real love." _

"_I'm sure you've seen plenty of love in your time, Agent Montgomery-" _

_He interrupted her. "No, my dear. I have seen love. But never real love: true and steadfast yet ever-evolving as you each evolve. What we've all been searching for, what we've all been waiting for." He eyed her. "Real love. Do you understand?"_

_Sarah had stared up at him, her mind moving at a million miles a minute and her heart beating even faster. But then, just as suddenly, everything went calm. And she knew he was right. _

_She could feel it. _

For a moment, Sarah almost wished that Roan was still around. She hadn't told anyone about her plans for tonight, but right now she was wishing she had confided in someone. With the way she was feeling, she could use some reassurance. Someone to tell her that even if things went wrong-because after all, things going wrong was a fact of their lives-it wouldn't matter because she and Chuck were stronger than this.

As that thought sank in, Sarah felt herself smile a little. They were stronger now. They had come so far in this last year, learning so much about each other. She might not remember all the details about how they fell in love before, but she knew that they were in love now. And she wanted to share all her feelings with Chuck, experience that love again.

She wanted him. She wanted her husband.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, Sarah swept her eyes over the kitchen and living room. Chuck was wrapping up a job out in the Valley, so he should be home in a little while. And while the apartment and dinner was ready to go, she still needed to prepare herself.

After a quick shower, Sarah dried her hair and spent the extra time curling it, making it soft and touchable. She kept her makeup light and simple and debated about perfume or not, before finally deciding against it.

Stepping out of the bathroom and into their bedroom, Sarah took a deep breath. Now came the hard part: what to wear. The obvious choice was a robe with nothing underneath, but she didn't want tonight to be just about sex. It wasn't-it was about every aspect of being husband and wife. She wanted something easy and comfortable, yet appealing and alluring. And that was hard to find.

Going through her wardrobe twice yielded nothing that seemed right. She was almost ready to go with just a robe when her eyes landed on Chuck's side of the closet and she got an idea. It might not be the sexiest thing she had ever worn, but she was running out of time and Chuck should be home any minute.

And there was the anticipation again.

Grinning to herself, Sarah put on her laciest bra and panties and slid on her favorite jeans. Then she took one of Chuck's white button-downs from his side of the closet and pulled it on. As she did up most of the buttons and rolled up the sleeves to her forearms, she caught the faintest hint of his scent, and it was all she could not to bury her nose in the fabric.

For the last six weeks, she had been thinking about this night. Ever since that job at Aztec Tax Services, when she realized that she was ready, she had been searching for a way to give Chuck a grand romantic gesture. Something to prove how important, how special, how necessary he was to her. And now that she had it, she just wanted him to get here so she could see his reaction. See the pleasure and happiness and love on his face.

Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like everything was perfect. In spite of her earlier misgivings, nothing would go wrong tonight. For once, the universe would help them out and make this go off without a hitch.

Leaving her feet bare, Sarah walked out into the kitchen and checked on dinner. It had been kept warm for so long, she was worried it was starting to dry out. But Chuck should be home any second now-

The ringing of her cell phone, and the sight of Chuck's contact photo on the screen, made Sarah smile. Scooping up the phone, she answered it and said, "Are you nearly home?"

There was a long pause, then Chuck sighed. "Sarah . . ."

Her smile vanished as Sarah felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her. "Chuck? What is it?"

"I'm sorry, baby-I just got a call from Beckman. I'm on my way to the airport now. They need me in D.C."

Even Chuck calling her baby, something he rarely did but had started to do more frequently, couldn't counteract the immense disappointment she was feeling. Looking down at the counter, she tried not to let it show. "R-right now?" she asked, nearly cursing at the catch in her voice.

"Right now," he said, his voice full of regret and frustration. "I'm sorry, Sarah-I know it's date night and you said you were planning something special . . ."

If only he knew. It brought tears to her eyes, knowing what he was missing out on and how much he wanted this. But she didn't want to spoil the surprise, although it was now delayed. From the sound of his voice, she knew he was worried about her and she didn't want him to worry.

"It's okay," she said, trying to smile-trying to reassure him. "It can keep until next time. Does Beckman need me in D.C., too? If I hurry, we might be able to take the same flight."

"No, she just needs me," Chuck said, nipping Sarah's hope before it had even fully formed. "But it's going to be quick. One day, two tops, and I'll be home."

She rubbed her thumb against the counter, the different textures between the smooth tile and the sandy grout helping keep her focused. "Then you owe me one, Mr. Bartowski. You and me, as soon as you're back."

"You're on," Chuck said. "I'll be the one with the world's biggest bouquet of gardenias."

"You don't have to do that," Sarah said softly. "Just be here."

Chuck took a moment to reply. Was he hearing something in her voice? Something that gave him pause? "I will, baby. I promise," he said, full of determination.

Wanting to end the call on a lighter note, wanting him to know she was okay, Sarah tried to smile. "I'll see you then. Have a good time in D.C. Go to Ben's and have a half-smoke for me, yeah?"

He laughed softly. "Thanks for reminding me. Not to mention introducing me to the sheer genius of Ben's Chili Bowl in the first place."

Sarah held on to the phone tightly and wrapped her free arm around herself. "You're welcome."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Sarah listened hard, hearing the soft sounds of Chuck's breathing and wishing that he was standing beside her. That she could hear his breath in her ear, feel it stir the wispy hairs on her temple. Have his arms around her instead of her own.

"I need to go, Sarah," he said softly. "See you soon?"

"See you soon," she said into the phone. "Hey, be careful, okay?"

"I will," he said in a choked voice. "Bye."

Before she could say goodbye, he disconnected and all she heard was the dial tone. She lowered the phone and gazed down at it.

"Bye," she whispered. "I love you."

End, Chapter 6


	7. Season 7 and Beyond

**Real Love 7/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: A collection of (mostly) unseen moments in the romance of Chuck and Sarah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: My apologies for the extra delay in getting this chapter out; real life conspired against me a bit. I hope you enjoy this final chapter, taking us into season 7 and beyond, in the story of Chuck and Sarah and their love. More notes at the end.

XXX

1. **Vs. the Mechanic**

It wasn't until his seatmate's laptop banged into his knee that Chuck realized he was pressing his feet so hard against the floor of the plane that his legs were aching. Doing his best to stretch them out, Chuck rubbed his thighs and tried to relax. But that was easier said than done.

The whole time he had been in D.C., he could barely keep a lid on his temper. Normally, Chuck considered himself an easy-going guy, not prone to losing his cool. A last-minute trip to Washington was frustrating and a bit annoying, but not enough to get angry about it. But disappointing Sarah, hurting Sarah . . . that made him angry.

He knew she understood. After all, the generous retainer that the CIA and NSA paid to Carmichael Industries had made a difference to their lives, especially in the early days after Casey left and it was just him and Sarah. She would be the first to say that the job came before personal considerations.

But Chuck had never totally agreed with that mindset. Yes, of course he believed in working hard and serving his country, and he knew that sometimes, he had to put a mission before Sarah. But not this time. Not when it turned out that Beckman just wanted him to undergo another round of testing-something she hadn't told him on the phone. Not when it meant postponing a date night about which Sarah had seemed very nervous.

Even now, he still wasn't completely sure why she was nervous. She had admitted that she was planning something special, an admission that had made Chuck's hopes go to Defcon Five. After all, it was almost a year since that day on the beach . . . was Sarah going to do something to mark that day? Was that what this particular date night was about? And could that explain just what Sarah had been thinking about for the last few weeks?

He swallowed and rubbed his hands against his jeans. All these questions did nothing but make him more and more nervous. There was still a half hour before the flight was due into Los Angeles, and then he had to drive home in rush hour traffic. It would be a while before he could talk to Sarah. Because this wasn't a conversation he could have over the phone-otherwise he would have had it with Sarah last night when he called her.

Leaning his head back against his seat, Chuck closed his eyes. He just wanted to be home, with his wife. With his Sarah. Eating dinner, cuddling on the couch, sharing the details of their day. Maybe then she would explain what had her so distracted lately.

Or maybe . . . maybe it was time to make a move.

Perhaps Sarah had been holding back because she didn't know how to start. How to cross that last divide between them. Holding hands and hugging were great-something that Chuck couldn't get enough of-but they hadn't kissed for nearly a year. And God, he missed kissing Sarah.

So what if when he got home he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers? Ran his fingers through her silky hair, stroked her back along her spine and pulled her in against him? Showed her all the love and passion he had for her, the feelings that he had been keeping tamped down for the last year?

Chuck could feel his body respond and gulped in a breath. It had been so long and it would feel so good to be close to her . . . until Sarah pushed him away. Until she looked at him, her eyes full of confusion. Because just kissing her like that wasn't fair. She had asked him to go slow and he had agreed. More than agreed-he had let her set the pace for their relationship. He couldn't betray the trust Sarah had shown him, just because he was still madly in love with his wife and wanted to have that shared intimacy again.

Taking a few deep breaths, Chuck pushed down his physical reactions and struggled to find some calm. Taking the slow path, like they had for the past year, was a good thing. His fears that Sarah would change her mind and leave had decreased gradually, to the point that now he knew it was just a matter of time before they would take the last step and be together again, for good. Forever.

They had already spent so much time waiting for for each other. He could wait a bit longer if it meant they'd both be ready when the time was right.

The announcement to prepare for landing made Chuck feel a bit more cheerful. He was that much closer to being home and having that talk with Sarah. So he made sure his seat belt was fastened and pulled his legs back a little, moving them out of the aisle.

As soon as he was off the plane, Chuck hoisted his overnight bag onto his shoulder and headed towards the daily parking garage where he had left his car two days before. LAX was crowded, causing him to bob and weave past slow-moving travelers and luggage carts. But within a few minutes, he was walking into the garage and towards his car.

There was muffled rumblings and the occasional honked horn as cars drove through the concrete structure. The smell of exhaust hung in the air and the lighting was either dim and fuzzy or bright and harsh. It all combined to play upon the senses, making you feel like you were in some strange kind of limbo.

That was why when he spotted his car and saw Sarah standing beside it, Chuck thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He walked faster, feeling his heart pound when she didn't vanish as he drew closer.

"Sarah?"

At the sound of his voice saying her name, Sarah's head turned and she stood up straight, running her hands down the sides of her jeans. She gave him a small, hesitant smile. "Hi."

"What are you doing here? How did you even know where to find my car?" he asked, sliding his bag off his shoulder and gazing down at her.

"Beckman told me what flight you were on. And . . . and to find your car, I had this," she said, holding up her keys and displaying the spare key fob for his car. "There might be a tracker in most commercial vehicles, a tracker that the CIA can access in-in situations like this," Sarah said, her face turning pink.

Chuck blinked. He hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected pretty much any of this. And it left him absolutely flabbergasted. "But . . . but why did you come here at all?"

She licked her lips and his eyes were automatically drawn to the movement of her tongue. "I . . . I missed you. I took a cab here so we-so we could go home together-no."

"No?" Chuck repeated, feeling his mind in a whirl. For being a smart guy, he was feeling very dumb right now.

Shaking her head, Sarah stepped towards him. One of her hands reached out and wrapped around his fingers tightly. "I came here because I didn't want to wait another minute."

The way she left her statement open-ended, with no clarification, no "to see you," made his brain finally start working. Could she be saying-did she mean . . .?

He searched her face, gazing into her eyes. And he could see all the answers he needed.

Oh-so-slowly, he brought his free hand up to lightly cup her cheek, leaning down towards her an inch at a time. He could feel her moving up on her tiptoes, meeting him halfway as their lips drew closer. Just before their mouths touched, Chuck looked into her eyes and knew she wanted this. Wanted him.

And then the time for slowness was past. Now it was time for hands and lips, for holding tight and breathing together, for soft laughter and whispered words.

Time seemed to stand still as he kissed his wife, but his need for oxygen couldn't be so easily forgotten. Panting, Chuck broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, his arms wrapped around her.

"Wow," he said, looking at her. "I mean, really, wow."

Sarah beamed up at him, her fingers stroking the back of his neck. "Yeah. And you won't even have to wait that long for a second kiss." She pecked his lips softly and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I'm sorry, that tiny little kiss can't count as a second kiss," Chuck said, stroking her back and feeling like all was right in the world. Especially when Sarah quirked an eyebrow at him, as if to say 'challenge accepted' and kissed him long and slow, until time stopped again.

"Better than my memories," she whispered against his lips. "And they were really good, you know."

If it wouldn't make him look strange and weird, Chuck would purr. As it was, he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to drive them home with how relaxed and boneless he felt. But he'd worry about that in a bit, because he wasn't done kissing Sarah yet.

2. **Vs. the Virus**

She really should let Chuck sleep. He had gotten home very late last night, having spent the last week tied up in Carmichael Industries' most high-profile job to date: tackling a nasty computer virus that was attacking a number of small banks, draining funds and diverting them to terrorists. And then they had stayed up even later to make love.

Smiling to herself, Sarah moved a bit closer to Chuck. Ever since he had returned from Washington, they had been like bunnies. Like honeymooners. They just couldn't get enough of each other.

Was it any wonder, though? After a year without physical intimacy with his wife, Chuck was like a man who had crossed a desert to find an ocean. And Sarah couldn't deny that she wanted Chuck just as much as he wanted her. The last year had been about making sure she would never again forget anything about Chuck or about them. So she had been eager-very eager-to know exactly what it felt like to have Chuck kiss her, make love to her, make love to him, in every way possible.

Sarah rested her flushed cheek against Chuck's shoulder. Now that she had the physical memories, there was one more memory she wanted to reinforce. Because she could remember the first time she had told Chuck she loved him. It was a good memory. Sweet and heartwarming. But the emotional punch was strangely muted for some reason. Like something had happened to make the memory bittersweet.

So she wanted to know how Chuck would react when she told him she loved him. Because she did love him. Loved him so completely and utterly that even when she couldn't remember him, she believed the story he had spun for her about their love.

And now she more than believed it. She felt it. This was real.

Soon he would wake up, all surprised by how late it was, and she would tell him she was pulling rank, as the co-owner of Carmichael Industries, and making him take the morning off. And he would smile at her, that soft, happy smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and say something sweet and funny and wonderful. Something so perfect that the only thing she could say was "I love you."

The moment was so strong in her mind, so compelling and powerful, that she hadn't realized Chuck was awake until he let out a soft sigh and wrapped his arm around her. "Mmmmm, I feel so much better-"

Sarah was knocked back on the bed as Chuck sprang into a sitting position with a yelp. "I'm late! Why didn't the alarm go off?"

By the time she had recovered from her surprise and sat up, Chuck had thrown the covers off and gotten out of bed, fumbling with his phone as he ran a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "I set this for seven . . ." he said frantically.

"And I turned it off," Sarah said, going up on her knees and reaching out for his arm to turn him around. "Chuck, you need a break."

"I'm fine, really-this job is important, Sarah, and I want to give it my all-"

She wasn't going to take no for an answer. Tugging not-so-gently on his hand, she pulled him down onto the bed. "You are giving it your all. To the point where you need to stop and take care of yourself, so you can be one hundred percent for our clients. And to do that, you need sleep, a good breakfast, and a little bit of time away from the problem. Then that genius brain of yours will have an epiphany and you'll have the solution."

Chuck blinked, then he smiled slowly. "Wow. That is really bossy of you."

It was a good thing she was madly in love with him and he was giving her the smile that made her toes curl. Because she was not bossy.

Giving him a mock-pout, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I am not bossy."

"Oh, that was pretty bossy, Mrs. Bartowski," he said, pulling her close with his hands resting on her hips. "That was even bossier than Ellie got on her worst 'I must save Chuck from himself by telling him exactly what he should do!' tear."

"So telling you the truth and looking out for you is being bossy? Good to know," Sarah said with a raised eyebrow.

He let out a soft chuckle and leaned in to brush his lips over hers. "Have I mentioned I love bossy?"

Sliding a hand into his hair, Sarah pulled him back for a deeper kiss. When she spoke, her voice was soft and teasing. "No, you hadn't."

"Well . . . well, now you know," Chuck said, nuzzling her softly, his breath fanning over her lips.

This was it. This was the perfect moment. She stroked his neck and gently scraped her nails over the back of his head, feeling him sigh and his arms move around her waist. "Chuck?"

Perhaps she should have just said it, when his eyes were lowered and he was relaxed. But she wanted to be looking into his eyes, his remarkable, beautiful eyes, when she told him.

"Yeah, baby?" he said, lifting his head a little to look at her.

Sarah couldn't help smiling. There was no reason and every reason in the world to smile at her husband right now.

"I love you, Chuck."

This didn't feel like she imagined it would. She had expected trumpets and fireworks and an overwhelming rush of emotion. But it wasn't that at all. It was . . . it was like breathing or blinking. Something you did without thinking about it. Saying the words should make a difference, should have an impact on her. But to her surprise, they didn't.

But then, Chuck smiled at her and brought one hand up to cup her cheek. "I love you, too. So much, Sarah."

And there was the rush. The thrill. The absolute utter joy. Sarah felt her smile grow even bigger and brighter, like she had the sun inside herself and all the light was coming out in her smile. And God, that was maybe the silliest thing she had ever thought, but it didn't matter because Chuck was kissing her.

She fell back on the bed, pulling Chuck on top of her, and kept kissing him. "Now-now I understand the bossy," Chuck mumbled against her lips.

"I've been bossy about you since the day we met," Sarah said, pressing kisses along his jaw. "But since I loved you from the first day we met . . . they're probably connected."

Chuck laughed softly, his shoulders shaking, then he nuzzled her neck. "So you get bossy with the people you love."

"Y-yes," she said, her voice breaking a little at the feel of him kissing her neck. "And-and as your wife and as co-partner in Carmichael Industries, you're stayin' home this morning."

"Works for me," Chuck said, grinning at her before returning to her neck. And as he kissed and sucked on her skin, Sarah thought that she should be bossy more often.

3. **Vs. the Small Imported Hatchback**

He was staring again. He knew it and Sarah knew it. She kept shooting him these sly little glances out of the corner of her eye whenever she caught him. And he would grin and shrug and go back to work for a little while, only to have his eyes drawn back to her.

Back to the bump.

Sarah had always been stunning. Tall and strong, with sculpted muscles and soft curves. He had always thought her body was a worthy vessel for her mind and her soul and her spirit. Of course she was beautiful on the outside-Chuck couldn't deny that he loved to look at her, loved her beauty. But what was on the inside was even more important to him. It was Sarah, not her face or her body, that made him fall in love with her.

But at five months pregnant, there was no way Sarah could hide her baby bump. And today was the first day it was really noticeable and he just couldn't stop looking at it. Because . . . because his wife was pregnant and they were having a baby together and this was all he had ever wanted.

This was a thought he had had frequently ever since Sarah had given him the news. But now that she was showing, it was pretty much all he could think about. Sarah was pregnant!

Suddenly, he was pulled away from the website full of Volkswagen Rabbits and turned around in his chair to face Sarah. She straightened up and folded her arms over her chest, her "Sarah Walker, Badass Spy" mask firmly in place.

Chuck shifted in his chair, feeling nervous at the sight of that face. He thought Sarah was okay with him, but maybe she wasn't. She must be a little annoyed with him, if she was using her perfect spy face on him.

The words of his Little League coach drifted through his mind and Chuck decided to put them into practice: a good offense is a good defense. "I know I've been staring," he said, "and I'm sorry. I just . . ."

He just what? What could he say to make up for leering at his wife's stomach? He was as bad as those men who pointed to their wife's stomach and said, "Look what I did!" Like the man was more important than the woman actually carrying the baby.

Biting his lip, he looked up at Sarah. "I'm really sorry."

To his surprise, Sarah nudged his legs apart enough to slip between them and sit on his knee. He watched as she settled himself into place, then as the mask dropped from her face and she let out a full belly laugh.

"Sarah?" he asked as he wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. "Did I miss something?"

She shook her head through her giggles. Once she calmed down, she kissed his cheek and grinned at him. "You just looked so guilty. I had to make you sweat a little."

"Gee, thanks," he said, slumping back in his chair.

"But seriously, the staring is a little unnerving," Sarah said, running her fingers through his hair. "Is something bothering you?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Chuck wrapped both arms around her. "No, no, nothing's wrong. Everything's great." He paused. What if something was bothering her? Or the baby? What if something was wrong-

"Hey, I can practically see the wheels turning. What are you thinking?" Sarah asked, sounding concerned.

"You're okay, right?" he said quickly. "You and the baby?"

The wrinkle that had appeared between Sarah's brows when she asked him if he was okay immediately smoothed out as a happy smile took its place. "I'm great. We're great," she said, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her stomach.

Chuck sighed as his hand settled over the firm roundness of her belly. Any day now, he would be able to start feeling the baby's movements, according to the many pregnancy guides he'd already read, but just being able to touch Sarah and know that their baby was inside her . . .

"There's no need to worry," Sarah said softly, stroking his hair. "I'm fine and the baby is fine."

"Normally, I'm not that big of a worrywart, really. This . . . this is just bringing it out in me," he said, looking up at Sarah.

Sarah leaned against his chest. "Me, too," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I try not to think about it, but . . . but you know. That little voice that says all this could vanish in a minute-"

"And how awful it would be if it was all gone," Chuck finished.

"Yeah." She cuddled in against him a little and Chuck rubbed her back slowly before kissing her forehead.

"I guess that's why I kept staring at you earlier," he said. "Because it was one thing when you were throwing up and turning green at the smell of sushi. But now . . . now, everyone knows you're pregnant. And it's amazing, and I'm so happy, baby. So happy," he said, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes.

Her eyes were a bit watery, but Sarah's smile was full of quiet happiness. "Me, too," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "So . . . so let's just think about the happy stuff for now, okay?"

Chuck nodded. "I think that is the best idea ever," he said, smoothing his fingers over her stomach.

For a long moment, there was only the hum of the computers and the soft flicker of the fluorescent lights over their heads and the soft sound of their in-sync breathing. But the silence was soothing, calming. As he sat holding Sarah, Chuck could feel himself letting go of the worry and stress and just focusing on the good things. On knowing that he had everything he could want and he was so thankful for having it all.

Sarah let out a soft sigh. "I can't believe, out of all the cars to target, these guys are going after Volkswagen Rabbits."

"Tell me about it," Chuck said, rubbing her back and smiling. "I'm having to learn more about this car than I ever wanted to learn. But there's got to be some reason to steal as many forty-year-old cars as they can get their hands on."

"We'll figure it out," Sarah said, straightening up. "You want to divide and conquer? I know something about cars-maybe I can figure out what they're after if you send me your research."

"Of course you know something about cars-you know something about everything," Chuck said with a grin. He kissed her cheek. "You're on."

She smiled at him as she rose to her feet slowly, pausing for just a moment to check her balance. That was new-it must be because of the baby, he thought. Adjusting to a new center of gravity. And even though he wanted to make sure she was steady and stable, to rest his hands on her back and help her, Chuck held back. Because he knew Sarah would ask if she needed help.

Just like he would do the same with her.

4. **Vs. the Flip**

Taking a sip from her to-go cup, Sarah savored the taste of good, well-brewed coffee. She had missed coffee in the last months of her pregnancy and then when she was nursing Willow. But it had been better for the baby, so she had just sucked it up and dealt with feeling constantly sleepy. Being cut-off had also turned her into a coffee snob once she could drink it again, a fact that amused Chuck to no end.

Smiling to herself, Sarah walked slowly through the empty, echoing rooms. In three days, this house would belong to her and Chuck. This morning when she had woken up, though, she had the urge to see the house again. To remind herself once again that this was her life. Married with a baby and on the verge of owning a house. A home, she corrected herself.

This house wasn't like the sprawling mansion Chuck had wanted to give her, or the cozy little bungalow she had always pictured in her mind. It wasn't that similar to their first dream house, either. No picket fence, a bit of a fixer-upper-although it did have a red door, she thought happily.

But this house was one that she and Chuck had picked out together. They had put in the leg work, visiting open houses and scrolling through realtor websites, talking about advantages like being close to a park and near good schools versus the size of the house and yard and proximity to their office. There had been a lot of late night discussions as they cuddled Willow, many early-morning debates about what they wanted for their future.

There were walls to be painted, a washer and dryer that needed to be replaced, and some squeaky floorboards. But this house was their future, and that made it perfect to Sarah. They'd work on it together and it would be theirs.

Sarah took another sip of coffee and turned around slowly, taking one last look at everything. They were closing on the house on Tuesday, and as the week ended their family would be converging on Los Angeles: Ellie, Devon and Clara were flying in from Chicago on Friday and Casey was due to arrive sometime on Saturday. With Morgan and Alex's help, the Bartowskis should have plenty of assistance with their move.

In the past, she had never needed help with a move, either from friends and family or from professional movers. You either left everything you couldn't carry behind or you didn't have anything to take with you in the first place. But that wasn't the kind of life she had now. Instead, she was planning what color to paint the living room and whether they should get a new couch and if they would have the time to plant some trees before the California winter set in.

This was her life now. And she loved it.

Slipping out of the house, Sarah crouched down and used her lockpicks to relock the front door. She returned them to the back pocket of her jeans as she turned around, but drew up short when she saw a stroller that was identical to Willow's sitting by the driveway.

What was that doing there?

"Hey."

She turned quickly at the sound of Chuck's voice, then smiled widely at what she saw. Under the overgrown Meyer lemon tree by the side of the house, a blanket was spread out and Willow was creeping along, playing with a few toys in the shade. Chuck was sitting next to her, his long legs outstretched as he leaned back on one hand. A small cooler was sitting on the edge of the blanket, with Chuck's own to-go cup sitting on top of it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a smile, walking over and sinking down on her knees beside him. Willow immediately wiggled over to Sarah, putting her hands on Sarah's legs to hoist herself up. Sarah scooped up Willow and cuddled her as she looked at Chuck.

"When I woke up and saw your note, we didn't want to be left out of the fun," Chuck said, gesturing to Willow. "So I packed up our pretty girl and a picnic before coming over here."

"You could have come inside," Sarah said, shifting to lean against his side.

Chuck wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I know. But since you said you wanted to visit the house, I wanted you to have as much time as you wanted."

It was times like this, when Chuck's innate kindness and goodness shone through in a small, simple action, that she wondered why it had taken her so long to have this. But then, if every step they had taken, both forwards and backwards, had gotten them to where they were now . . . It was hard to contemplate doing anything differently.

Willow wiggled in Sarah's lap, reaching for her toys. Sarah leaned down and kissed the top of Willow's head before gently setting her back on the blanket. "She's getting so big," Sarah said, leaning back against Chuck.

"Yeah. Just think, someday she'll be climbing this tree," Chuck said, gesturing over their heads at the Meyer lemon tree's branches.

"Oooh, you think so?" Sarah asked, looking up at the tree's thin branches.

Following her gaze, Chuck gave her one of those half-smiles of his, where only one corner of his mouth turned up. "Okay, maybe not this tree, but someday, she'll be climbing trees and running around this yard."

Sarah smiled. "Yeah, she will be. I don't want to imagine that, though," she said, watching Willow play with her blocks. "I want her to stay just like this for a little while longer."

"Oh, yeah," Chuck said, rubbing his hand along Sarah's arm. "But I know that day will be here before we know it."

"Just like this day?" Sarah asked, turning to rest her chin on his shoulder as she gazed up at him. "Did today happen before you knew it?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, his lips slightly pursed. Then he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Yes and no."

"And what does that mean?" Sarah asked, cuddling in against his side.

"It means . . . I knew a day like today would happen for us. Someday. I just didn't think it would happen the way it did," he said, almost repeating her earlier thoughts.

"I know," Sarah said softly, turning to look at Willow. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. Because then we might not have Willow, or this house, or be like we are now."

She could feel Chuck brush a kiss over the top of her head. "Me, neither. I love what we have."

Looking around, taking in their daughter playing in front of them, their house waiting for them, and her husband holding her close, Sarah felt the deepest agreement with what Chuck had said. Because that was exactly how she felt, too.

5. **Vs. Ten or Twelve**

On the morning of his tenth wedding anniversary, Chuck Bartowski was awakened by the sound of muffled giggles and what sounded like a pan hitting a tile floor.

"What was that?" Sarah said, jerking awake.

Chuck grinned a little. "If I had to guess, I think the kids are making us breakfast."

"And that makes you smile?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. "The thought of three children, ages nine, four and two, in a room full of sharp and hot objects?"

"Okay, yeah, it sounds dangerous, until you remember that we're talking about our kids. Willow knows the rules," Chuck said, gently tugging Sarah down and into his arms. "I'm sure our breakfast will be just toast and juice, with a selection of jams and jellies."

"Yes, Willow knows the rules. Case laughs in the face of rules, and Logan's just a baby."

If he had ever taken the time to make a list of all the things he loved about Sarah-which he hadn't, since once he started making the list he wouldn't be able to do anything else but work on said list-Chuck would have definitely ranked highly 'secret worrywart tendencies'. Because Sarah Walker Bartowski was a nervous Nelly when it came to her children.

Not that Chuck could blame her-he was the same way about the kids. So he didn't mind all that much what he was about to do.

"Okay, Sarah," he said with another grin and a kiss to her cheek. "I'll go supervise our dwarves and make sure breakfast doesn't burn down the house."

Her tiny little pout was adorable. "Sometimes, being a responsible adult sucks."

He couldn't help laughing. "But then, when you know you're going to go out for dinner, drinks and dancing with your husband tonight, being a responsible adult isn't so bad." He leaned down to kiss Sarah, a kiss that changed from a quick peck to a long, slow embrace.

"Mmmm," she said softly. "That is exciting to think about. As is breakfast."

Chuck laughed and straightened up. "I'm going, I'm going." He grabbed a t-shirt on his way out of their bedroom, pulling it over his head as he headed towards the kitchen.

As he had expected, Willow had everything under control. She was manning the toaster, removing the toast and handing it to Case, who ferried it over towards a platter set in the middle of a tray. The platter was already on a tray, accompanied by every container of jelly and jam from the fridge, not to mention margarine and peanut butter. Meanwhile, Logan was sitting on the floor, using his crayons on a large piece of construction paper.

"How many pieces of toast is that, Case?"

Case slowly counted each slice of toast. "Eight, Willow!"

"I think that's enough-do you think that's enough?" Willow sounded nervous, her hand poised over the toaster with a piece of bread in it.

This seemed like a good time to make his entrance. "Two slices for me, two slices for Mommy . . . that leaves how many, Case?" Chuck asked, leaning down to scoop up Logan.

"Daddy! You're supposed to be asleep," Willow said, frowning.

"Well, I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Chuck explained, settling Logan on his hip and kissing the top of Willow's head. "This was a very nice thing to do on Mommy and Daddy's anniversary."

Case had been using his fingers to do the math problem Chuck had posed him. "Four?"

"That's right, Case," Chuck said, ruffling his sandy hair. "Do you think four slices is enough for you and Willow and Logan?"

"We need one more piece of toast. Logan's only gonna want one piece, but I want two and Willow wants two."

"Okay!" Willow said, dropping the bread into the toaster. "Daddy, are you surprised?"

He nodded his head and smiled at his daughter. "I sure was. Why don't you let me handle the last piece of toast and carrying the tray, and you take Case and Logan upstairs to say good morning to Mommy?"

"And-and then, Mommy will think, 'Where's the food?' and then Daddy will show up with it!" Case said, jumping up and down at Chuck's side.

"Exactly," Chuck said with a grin. "Good thinking, Case."

Willow dashed over to the piece of construction paper and picked it up. "This goes on the tray, too!" She carefully tucked it under the platter of toast, then came back to Chuck.

"Okay, pretty girl," Chuck said, carefully settling Logan on his feet and gesturing for Willow to take his hand. "Thank you."

She gave him a big smile, her brown eyes wide and delighted. "You're welcome, Daddy. C'mon, Logan, let's go see Mommy."

That lit a fire under Logan, who started toddling along on his chubby legs, following Case who had already taken off.

Chuck watched his children go and let out a soft, contented sigh, before snagging the last piece of toast from the toaster. The last ten years had been full of wonderful things: reconnecting with Sarah, a great house, three amazing children, professional success . . . It was all he had ever wanted. Family, home, a good job. But he had never guessed it could be as good as this.

So why was he down here when he could be with the people he loved?

With a grin, Chuck picked up the tray and climbed the stairs, hearing the excited voices of the kids chattering away. When he stepped into the bedroom, Logan was curled up against Sarah's side. Case was stretched out on his stomach at the foot of the bed, munching on some toast with jam already smeared over his face. And Willow was sitting Indian-style in the middle of the bed, daintily eating her toast as she talked to Sarah.

It was Sarah who saw him first, smiling brightly at him. "There you are."

"I was basking," Chuck said, slipping back into bed and settling his legs in the remaining free space. "But I couldn't wait for breakfast!"

"Toast!" Logan piped up, prompting laughter from all of them. Logan was so quiet that whenever he chose to talk, it was always funny.

"Yep, toast," Chuck said, reaching over to ruffle Logan's hair before deliberating what kind of spread to use on his breakfast.

As he spread some strawberry jam on one of his pieces of toast, Sarah leaned over. "The kitchen isn't destroyed, right?"

He chuckled. "No, it's fine. I thought I was the neat freak in this relationship, Mrs. Bartowski."

"Well, after twelve years of marriage, I guess I've picked up some things from you, Mr. Walker," Sarah said, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Ten years," he said, taking his part in their standard disagreement. He marked their anniversary from their reunion in the LAX parking garage. Not that the first two years hadn't mattered-that wasn't the issue. He wouldn't have traded those two years for anything, not with how it had made them a stronger couple. And he had told Sarah that plenty. But he just couldn't combine those first two years with the ten since. They were just too different.

Sarah shook her head. "Twelve," she said, her voice amused. They had long ago agreed to disagree on this one. And if Sarah had ever indicated she was hurt or unhappy with his position, he would have found a way to see her side. But since she understood what he meant, and accepted it even as she held her own view, they had turned it into one of those little running bits that married couples seemed to have.

"Daddy, Daddy, now that you're here, you can see the card!" Willow's voice made Chuck turn back to his daughter and his sons.

"We definitely want to see that," Sarah said, leaning against Chuck's side and pulling Logan into her lap.

And as their children proudly showed off their homemade anniversary card and Sarah cuddled further into his side, Chuck Bartowski knew he had it good.

XXX

Sarah Bartowski was in that pleasant state she reached when a couple of drinks, a good meal, and a few hours dancing with Chuck were applied to her. As a mother of three, it was rare to get uninterrupted time with her husband, but after all, it was their anniversary.

Their twelfth anniversary.

Smiling to herself, Sarah reached out to take Chuck's hand. "Tonight was wonderful."

He gave her a quick smile back before returning his eyes to the road. "It was. We should do this more often. Have date night. Maybe we could work something out with Morgan and Alex-switch off babysitting once a month or something."

"That sounds good," Sarah said, playing with his fingers. "You have the best ideas."

"Or it just seems like I do, because you're tipsy, baby."

Wrinkling her nose, Sarah pouted. "Hey."

"Sarah, when you get drunk-"

"I hate the word tipsy, but I'll admit to being it right now," Sarah interrupted. "But drunk? No. Spies don't get drunk. Even ex-spies."

Chuck let out a mock weary sigh. "Okay. When you get tipsy, you tend to two things: flattery and flirtation." He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Lots of flirtation. That is how Logan happened, after all."

"Are you complaining?" Sarah asked, grinning at him because she already knew his answer.

And he didn't disappoint. "Hell, no," he said, his grin wide and white in the dim light inside their car. "I'm just saying, suggesting a monthly date night doesn't rank up there with my all-time best ideas."

"Says you," Sarah retorted. "I think it's a great idea. After all, the last few years have been such a whirlwind, between Logan arriving out of nowhere, your mom showing up again, and Morgan and Alex spending a year in Europe with Casey and Gertrude. There hasn't been much time for us."

He nodded, turning his hand a little to wrap his fingers around hers. "I agree. So, date night? You and me, reconnecting. Remembering why we're here."

Sarah nodded, holding on tightly to Chuck's hand. "It's a deal."

A comfortable silence fell over the car, only the sound of the tires against the highway and the occasional click-clunk of the blinker as Chuck changed langes. It let Sarah get lost in her thoughts.

The last thing she would do was turn down a regular date night. Because it was true: the last few years, finding time for each other, for nurturing their relationship, had gotten more difficult. At least, for more than a few minutes here and there, a half-hour over lunch or some time in the car while doing errands.

That probably made her sound resentful of their children. Of their lives. And that wasn't it. Sarah loved what she had now. But she couldn't take what she had with Chuck for granted. She didn't want to take anything she had for granted. But then, she didn't need date night to remember why she was here. Why they were together.

She was here because she was still madly, totally, completely in love with Chuck Bartowski.

Nothing would change that. She wouldn't ever let anything change that. Not after nearly losing him so many times. Sometimes because of outside forces, sometimes because of her own actions. But none of that mattered now, because she wasn't going to lose this.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah straightened up in her seat. Such dark, deep thoughts were also part of being tipsy, when she wasn't able to flirt with Chuck and give him compliments. He was so adorable when she highlighted all the things she loved about him, to the point where he got very embarrassed.

It was their anniversary. A time to celebrate the years of love and happiness they had shared, while acknowledging the hard work and heartbreak that had also gone into their relationship.

Sarah squeezed Chuck's hand as she turned to him. "You know, now that Logan's nearly three, maybe it's time for a big family vacation. The ceremonial first visit to Disney, perhaps."

Chuck's face lit up. "Yeah? Logan's so small, I thought you would want to wait another year."

Their youngest was small and quiet. Her pregnancy had been difficult, and Logan taking after Chuck so much-not just in looks but in the shyer, more sensitive aspects of Chuck's personality-made Sarah very protective of Logan.

"I'd prefer it. But we took Willow and Case to Disney when they were three, and they both loved it. And they're dying to go back to Disney again," Sarah said, lacing her fingers through Chuck's. "And if we do it in the summer, that's plenty of time to build up Logan's strength a little. Get him feeling a bit more confident."

"You think of everything," Chuck said, giving her an impressed, loving look.

It was all she could not to blush. Chuck's compliments were always so honest and sincere. He wasn't stingy with them, not at all, but they always made her feel like a teenage girl with her first boyfriend. Even now.

"Maybe we could have Morgan, Alex and Jaina come along. So Willow has someone to play with, so she doesn't feel like she'll be stuck watching Case and Logan," Chuck suggested. "Ellie always complained about having to watch me a lot when we were kids."

"Now who's the one thinking of everything?" Sarah asked, lifting Chuck's hand to kiss his knuckles.

Even from six feet away, she could see his ears going slightly red. It was adorable and just so Chuck. And it made her know that just like her, he didn't take them for granted. Everything was still as fresh and as new as when they first fell in love.

"I love you," she said softly, gazing at him.

"I love you, too," Chuck said, giving her a quick smile as he pulled into the driveway. The words might seem automatic, but Sarah knew they were completely heartfelt. "Happy anniversary, baby."

"Happy anniversary," she replied, tugging on his hand to stop him from getting out of the car. All her thoughts about being like a teenage girl and their marriage still being so full of newfound experiences . . . they had given her an idea.

He looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

Oh-so-slowly, she rubbed her thumb against his palm. "Our anniversary isn't quite over yet . . . maybe we could stay out here for a little while before going inside."

Just as she hoped, Chuck immediately got the idea. He waggled his eyebrows at her, in that silly, yet sexy, move of his. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking, I like how you're thinking, Mrs. Bartowski."

Sarah leaned in and kissed him softly and slowly. As she broke the kiss, she looked into his eyes. "I think we're on the same page, Mr. Walker."

Chuck's smile was as bright and as happy as the first time she had seen it, so so so many years ago. He pecked her lips and picked up his iPod, scrolling through his playlists.

"You and your playlists," Sarah said, giggling a little as she turned and crawled into the backseat. She ran her hands through her hair, then casually unzipped her dress a little, letting the straps slide down her shoulders.

"They set the mood!" Chuck said, still focused on his music player.

"I think the mood's already been set, Chuck."

She knew he was all set to playfully argue with her as he looked up at her in the rearview mirror. But as soon as he saw her, Sarah knew she had won this one. His finger jerked, music began playing, and the iPod landed somewhere with a clunk as he almost leaped into the backseat.

His hands seemed to be everywhere, tracing over her shoulders, stroking her back, slipping inside her dress to touch her skin and make her shiver. But even better was how he kissed her. Like she was oxygen and water combined, like he would die if he couldn't get a little more of her.

Wrapping a leg around him and sinking her hands into his hair, Sarah pulled him closer as she kissed him back. Because Chuck was love and life and happiness, all the things she never thought she deserved until she met him and realized that 'having it all' wasn't a cliche. That it was actually possible. And to get everything she could have ever wanted, with a man who loved her like Chuck did . . . Sarah had never felt as lucky as she did at this moment.

Chuck rested his forehead against hers, panting a little. "This-this has always been-'our song' to me," he got out, gazing at her with his amazingly warm brown eyes.

It took her a moment to recover from his kisses and from what his gaze was making her feel. When she did, Sarah managed to concentrate enough to listen to the lyrics of the song that was playing: a woman crooning softly, her voice rising and falling as she sang about _waiting for you_ and _no need to be afraid_.

But she thought it was the chorus that explained Chuck's words.

_It's real love_.

Sarah gazed back at Chuck, her arms holding him close as dozens of memories flowed over her. Roan's words about her and Chuck; all the times they had asked the other one if what they had was real; the first time they said 'I love you' and the times when it had mattered most.

Which was every time they said the words.

She could feel the smile on her face. Could feel her heart pounding. At first, all she could do was nod. Then, just like so many other times with Chuck, she managed to find her voice and say what was in her heart.

"It's like it was written for us," she said, knowing that anyone else would think she was the world's biggest sap.

But Chuck didn't. He just smiled and nodded before kissing her again.

End.

**Author's Note 2**: There's a few people to thank: watchchristmastv on Tumblr, for the amazing graphic she created for this story. Regina Spektor, for the amazing cover of Real Love that inspired this fic in the first place. Steampunk . Chuckster, for providing so much support and encouragement as I wrote this fic, always ready to reassure me or offer advice when I needed it. LiptonLee, for really creating Willow, Case and Logan Bartowski and allowing me to use them in my fics. And finally, everyone who's commented, left reviews, or otherwise cheered me on: thank you.

If that sounds like a goodbye, it isn't. But it is a bit of a "see you later," because the only fics that I'm promising to produce at this point is the last story in the _**Finding Home**_ series, as well as my contributions to **The Detective and the Tech Guy**. I'm still hashing out what **Finding Home** will look like, so it'll be a while before there's anything new from me. But I hope you'll keep following me on Tumblr or Twitter and that you'll wait to see what might come next from me.


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